tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47426535201151184312024-02-07T22:30:12.172-08:00At the Feet of the MotherElizabeth Usha Harding's blogElizabeth Usha Hardinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00089850526408986284noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-41134406895210570832022-10-15T18:17:00.000-07:002022-10-15T18:17:21.647-07:00Lord Hanuman en Mexico (Spanish version)<h1 style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">बुद्धिहीन तनु जानिके, सुमिरौं पवन कुमार |</span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">बल बुद्धिविद्या देहु मोहिं, हरहु कलेश विकार ||</span></span></h1><p style="text-align: center;"></p><h3 style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">buddhi hīn tanu jānike, sumirauṁ pavan kumār |</span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">bal buddhi vidyā dehu mohiṁ, harahu kaleś vikār ||</span></i></span></span></span></span></span></h3><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Al darme cuenta de la insuficiencia de mi intelecto, medito en ti, oh Hanuman, el hijo del dios del viento; concédeme fuerza, inteligencia y verdadero conocimiento, y elimina todas mis aflicciones y manchas". </span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">-desde el doha del Hanuman Chalisa </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Lord Hanuman en Mexico </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">by Elizabeth Usha Harding</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">traducido por Dra. Mar</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">í</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">a Montero-L</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">ó</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">pez Lena <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">En una noche de luna llena en 2005, Hanuman apareció ante nosotros en una playa de arena blanca en Quintana Roo, México. Se quedó conmigo durante 17 años. Aunque siempre estuvo cerca de mí, nunca comprendí el alcance de su presencia hasta que se fue una mañana reciente en la misma playa, un poco más al sur. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Durante estos 17 años sucedieron muchas cosas extraordinarias, en las que tuve un papel que desempeñar. Aunque las acciones que me sentí obligado a hacer fueron quizás inusuales, no se sintieron tan fuera de lo común. En retrospectiva, sin embargo, me di cuenta de cómo algunas de las cosas que hice de buena fe deberían haber sido casi imposibles de llevar a cabo. Mientras contribuí con mi sinceridad, Lord Hanuman proporcionó la magia. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Siempre he tenido un profundo sentimiento por los pueblos y culturas antiguas. Cuando era un niño que crecía en Viena, Austria, me enojé mucho cuando leí sobre la masacre de los incas. Me corté el dedo y derramé unas gotas de sangre en el libro de historia, prometiendo arreglar las cosas. A medida que uno envejece, uno aprende que no se puede cambiar la historia ni la naturaleza de la humanidad. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="5475" data-original-width="3886" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrArH3SFUNo1ZRplLGNEaDxVaeN9xNEmNeKJAhMtksoNrJ1z0GqPTYX8RCeL94hXtBXbs1VxaOfSed1CK8Ghbb_7B1njuHSv65EtnujtFow_lIqamDEbkXeaF56UP0907fm9ijiB-U2h_T3rPNF8UzlEdF8D4H1jSxPKOcJqZixL7cANgLXYMM5SY/w214-h302/Sri%20RK%20shrine%20pose%20color2.jpg" width="214" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Para explicar la historia de la aparición de Hanuman en México, necesito dar un poco de historia sobre lo que llevó al evento. En la década de 1970, me enamoré de una fotografía de Sri Ramakrishna en el Hollywood Temple de la Sociedad Vedanta. Tomó algún tiempo, pero mi amor por Sri Ramakrishna y algunos golpes duros de la vida fueron capaces de reducir mi ego y preparar mi corazón para la entrega. Innumerables peregrinaciones a lugares sagrados en la India me dieron el gusto por la experiencia divina. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Para el año 2000, estaba listo para ir al Monte Kailash en el Himalaya, ansioso por realizar una homa, una ceremonia de fuego sagrado, en la cima del mundo para el bienestar de todos. Mi amigo Nandu me ayudó enseñándome a realizar un homa sencillo. Practiqué los mantras, compré los artículos necesarios y estaba listo. Días antes de la salida, recibí una llamada del agente de viajes nepalí. Mi viaje fue cancelado, peroel impulso para ir en peregrinación y realizar una homa seguía siendo muy fuerte. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Esto resultó ser fortuito ya que el impulso me trajo al sur de la frontera y me hizo enamorarme de México. Durante algún tiempo, había querido visitar la Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, pero siempre había dudado debido a problemas de idioma. Por suerte, Swami Bhajanananda, que habla español con fluidez, acababa de regresar de la India y se ofreció a acompañarme. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">La sensación que uno tiene en México es similar a la que uno experimenta en la India. Los episodios mágicos parecen bastante normales. Me desperté temprano en mi habitación de hotel en la Ciudad de México con una voz que hablaba en mi cabeza. Aunque esto es bastante inusual, no lo parecía en ese momento. La voz hablaba inglés como un presentador de noticias, y acostado en mi cama queen size bajo sábanas blancas y nítidas, escuché un comentario continuo sobre los acontecimientos históricos y modernos en México que salieron mal. Podría haber apagado esta voz, diciéndome a mí mismo que no cediera a ideas locas como la de escuchar una voz en mi cabeza, pero no lo hice porque las cosas que decía la voz tenían sentido. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="4511" data-original-width="2819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6G-VLETE0vf8cZey7eFn0ARIr0qtBwYfbhl-icVdFIH28pEyypUYOdo0VPskZsErp6vF6yw-Z5Y1XuKEwc3W6VHTk3iEZ26IuaBQZUjEv0dBYo1SkvlBZs52wBeX6Fm4r4xHrwJ1fze_q9t4pvtzwcMooTxWGy0a9TVv6zSflmepzUc4PhhhfGOR/s320/Our%20Lady%20of%20Guadalupe4x6good.jpg" width="200" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Mi plan era ir primero a la Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. En cambio, circumstances me llevó por primera vez al Museo Nacional de Antropología que alberga tesoros recuperados de las civilizaciones olmeca, azteca y maya. Algunos de los dioses más poderosos de México viven allí, y lamentablemente, se les conoce como históricos. ¿Qués harían los visitantes si pudieran ver a todos estos dioses y diosas cobrar vida? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Aunque la Basilica fue el siguiente lugar para visitar, el destino me llevó fuera de la Ciudad de México. Asombrado, me paré en Teotihuacan, un vasto sitio arqueológico con una altísima pirámide del sol y una enorme pirámide de la luna unidas por la amplia Avenida de los Muertos. Las personas que construyeron Teotihuacan habían mantenido a Dios en el centro de sus vidas y actividades para construir su ciudad alrededor de pirámides y templos. Después de Teotihuacán, visité la Basílica y me quedé en silencio maravillado debajo de la imagen milagrosa de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, la salvadora de los indígenas mexicanos. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cuando tienes una mente abierta, la tierra de México te habla como la tierra sagrada en la India. México primero me mostró su gloria pasada y luego me llevó a su moderna Basílica.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Después de la Ciudad de México, Swami y yo volamos a Quintana Roo para pasar un par de días en la playa en un alojamiento ecológico llamado Kailuum. Con la esperanza de realizar un homa en la playa, traje conmigo los ingredientes que había reunido para el Monte Kailash. Habría sido incómodo si hubiera realizado el homa cuando Swami, que es más experto en la realización de rituales, estaba presente. Mientras Swami realizaba la ceremonia del fuego, me maravillé del destino. En lugar de estar en lo alto de las montañas en Kailash, estaba en Kailuum, en la playa, viendo las llamas sagradas llevar oraciones a Dios. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Pasaron los años, pero el sentimiento de no haber cumplido con mi intención de realizar el homa en el 2000 persistió. Cinco años más tarde, en 2005, mis amigas Debra, Kalyani y Theresa aceptaron acompañarme a Kailuum. Planeamos realizar un homa en la arena blanca cerca del océano en la noche de luna llena de Hanuman Jayanti. Por esa razón, elegí traer una imagen de Hanuman como la deidad a adorar. No era una imagen cualquiera. Un devoto una vez trajo esta imagen de Hanuman a Kali Mandir, afirmando que era una foto del Hanuman real y no una pintura.
Utilicé un marco de plástico de pie para sostener la imagen de Hanuman en la arena. Cuando parecía demasiado sencillo, lo decoré con algunas calcomanías devocionales que mi amigo Guru Bhakti me había dado del templo local Hare Krishna.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p></p><p></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6puMYq5HDVLXdZB5rBmjSfU-bqS6U7jlV95CA_h4yVJXE87_pGqdgBB2xGs15bGcshDLUa5zmcPCR_k3prxGpSAVvl2GgKXzTmOFmyIZMZJbfgkussBtD9KNqD5cYRV_08ZQ2Wns8zzzolblWre_M_X2hbmDehbsdIrSugGGE3MAvQABplU2_0UQ/w469-h640/Hanuman.jpg" width="469" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaz558-bhIpQl8aypMArdlG2kvL92KqSmOPX8G9nlQqGMvFnxTmAedUm5i9uvYjf61AFIkM9WBAxR3B7qq6_ru3bYJKkFgT23vRI9-IG6WJAsqkqoKnRsWpMOZWJMKDVsMyDDdIICEtDXdH3me_1cJSqa5RwVoA3-CGtiZsDApRPEK7iEq62hPTYWg/w640-h480/Mexico%20120.jpg" width="640" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Kailuum, que desafortunadamente ya no existe, era un lugar mágico. Dormimos en tiendas del ejército bajo palapas. Con la excepción del baño común, no había pisos duros en Kailuum, solo arena blanca. Sin electricidad, solo velas y antorchas. Cenamos a la luz de las velas y observamos las estrellas por la noche. Había traído los mejores ingredientes para la homa: ghee, incienso y samugri que contenían nueces, hierbas, polvos y resina aromática. El personal de la oficina de Kailuum amablemente se ofreció a suministrar la madera. </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtMnuNpCYJh0-UUjAeiS0XB9m8wMCXMHxptVzdccpWC3_tKbECPPxQcJNt17VYJ40F9ydXQ-X-wikWHRizkGcylSUYGSgppmji6R1iAf4QodtaW4TS5FdSrSM8qNrOEEZS_rpbrPgpOYImFIuQa0MSXAIqGMJ-AgvYuSUAKfLIXJGALo3pOm7ENwM/w400-h300/Mexico%20121.jpg" width="400" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74GZ0gNdUDMsGnFAwhVRWWMPDB20-H17i512lzvCerykaYuU-X3P3w-aNeVXo6SGz9z6lMY7XBBH29yUG6Q8f9SncyLaWESTwPl64WYw2r1QHirJ4xSSVrWpymsQjvGZ6q2x2fujd95ujM-Zez_F0gdL3RxWuOffVWNaKzMV-9Y-nHw8HCdpWBc2N/w400-h300/Mexico%20119.jpg" width="400" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Era la noche de luna llena de Hanuman Jayanti. Estábamos emocionados. En las primeras horas de la tarde, seguí practicando los mantras del fuego homa que Nandu me había dado. Alrededor de las 9 pm, los cuatro caminamos en la playa hasta el lugar designado para el fuego. Al pasar por la palapa, vimos una gran hoguera ya encendida. La gente amable de la oficina obviamente no entendió. ¿Qué hacer? Trataron de ser útiles encendiendo la madera destinada al homa. Poco sabíamos que este "percance percibido" catapultó nuestro plan para un homa en un evento milagroso. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GZQArjnce6ClNsQ3x3O7AnPvdjHgV1IaBeiloXFN_Y3jrymj6saVeHdcOMnonj3Cqg69iXCWxEP0WmmsOfGQ7b9OElENp1GIc1Mt1_h353BdawDxPNkboEHmUlxF_3RjyBA0N9yl-vJJbHHvUUKqNDgBootXFuNcGuVNwl74KrB97RkWJEIe05Co/w640-h480/Mexico%20097.jpg" width="640" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GNi2iQWQuoMJGzhw3bubQgqhFPqbsk5zPgPkG2UGhUt6D2z_0HEspNCCGQRu8pM9vHRJlqOQ-QxkBNSE83IZZsKv1cORDx0STVlpVY5ok6dTvmbGwquvEt4z_fOFlkSgb24Aa-rDlqrbjSy1sTPh7MBE97obynr_icpVNHjowPzra15NRoSmuFH5/s320/P1010137.JPG" width="320" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Aprovechando al máximo una situación decepcionante, cavamos un hoyo en forma de triángulo en la arena y reunimos tantas ramitas como pudimos encontrar en la playa. Oré al Señor Hanuman para que mantuviera nuestro pequeño fuego encendido hasta que terminara los mantras homa. La luna llena estaba levantada, brillando intensamente en un océano tranquilo. Todo estaba quieto, solo el fuego estaba haciendo sonidos crepitantes. Completé los mantras homa – pude leerlos bien debido a la luz que venía de la gran hoguera – y ofrecimos todos los ghee y los elementos aromáticos al fuego. ¡Jai Hanuman! </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfAhUC6SUrKraXmLl84vDMDEn7MU1S1QRAS6-XCyz2iskE90dyRb-12yWupwSFQZMgeg4UpfC5GDOZ2Emd0YPcKs2lPwKgpNBxrmaJOO_nlpY3SqcU3_w_AZVoB71V0BnoQNJifE2c3itRffWUYGxo33BTxvzX4RKOnUu2sTblPTi-DsClnZFQ1fs/s320/Mexico%20094.jpg" width="320" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH2FZDhKgZk4f9nE8Watdc3z6vA_9ahjTQGh78TNe5932XgXhJ5nfrKRzHAEMh6ArQXgqvHUwqzq6uGEU58eqazZVNJKLql1Bsolo0WoxtF2yEWdXBhHNJMpVukQ7V4zR_kPOUbAWno0eB3rFXLJpld3WcAQIj5oNkLVvKBNHgFN-3RSQ8qL3dnJZ9/w640-h480/Mexico%20102.jpg" width="640" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12OaCl_EVZdNIXk2RJim29_Z3Yh8Ek-siu9UheTKhx0_njIWZlKBGH9Ue25UI741SLppk5ipl5zov-whZpNhUTjF43KexRLKR_EyOq8Sqdvn1gxhKId0h80nkD6E7IYGJHn9bCOOfoN4gedArfXoAOupT-X_PkP4wU1ALmHhAmB6ukY4AsSz5rrqn/w640-h480/Mexico%20104.jpg" width="640" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwTgTrBhpYHwmVpX66zISMaYm_FpwH5WkpMWLMT29ORCV7UKwL1vpY80-e-Se8DOZVzETjal7dtvUw9gOWuCNxCQrvtlhWNovJSFgT2iuzO-pfeZ9vzxFXC8tK1j5HQNwsxRb1RQUfJ97PxzR-gCFQkzY2qCuFVFfSaMcGscbI3yVyQklUGM7LddR/w640-h480/Mexico%20108.jpg" width="640" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPH7mQvkl2taLWn8NvKoEzlNPeKDSKsCPs6eK7rjwGgswxt8aeML-gEZSUDuk7Grks-_pJucFiL0cW9GVfixwIsWdn4wjGnh9CurpjHUbhTz5DUwXv2O-OK0Tkn5ZzhuV5C6drMv0joDqzO3Q50CW8tfJoVRMXpkbe44RKzCLL7HiHSmPj94XUa9j/w400-h300/Mexico%20112.jpg" width="400" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpB0-SBUyU78LqIXgWfOxu4jsAnHWze2pk9NEzBHLDJbglfS4EqFeNoeghAcdCOS74oUcHeSOFqmA0I9blYAR47eCX0WXZ75JnrvS4AsSB34IRRkKxhR3aqXAc_R4-QAC20r0HBCHqp3OnQdxLgNWZtARwIEcQJ1kHwB0HE3moIfWsGKne-yAZVsd/w640-h480/Mexico%20107.jpg" width="640" /></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLHu5E08V14h0ScOertIWW5lh3K6Y4PSzlvKXCAPQ6wzMRwegSY_dOWwKvkWpXtXxtrfTkWki7kSQ3MY99fH33LknQE7Olts3sDUM2zYs6I8peKNcwuvmYp0t7frvly07GIlxaB5QOhlAih3OjgRigVgYvI11kkWo-nbc209LEfX9BECRaDLoFw4dZ/w400-h300/P1010082.JPG" width="400" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Pasaron las horas. La gran hoguera se había apagado hace algún tiempo, pero nuestro pequeño fuego todavía seguía ardiendo con fuerza. Cada vez que pensábamos que el fuego se había apagado y nos inclinábamos para irnos, una llama se elevaba de nuevo. Salimos del sitio alrededor de la 1 am con el homa aun ardiendo. Theresa le pidió al guardia cercano que no extinguiera el fuego, sino que dejara que se quemara por sí solo. El guardia accedió a vigilar el lugar del fuego sagrado. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Lo primero que hice cuando me levanté a la mañana siguiente fue caminar hasta el lugar del incendio homa. Teresa ya estaba sentada allí meditando. Todavía había humo saliendo de nuestro homa. Kalyani, Debra y yo fuimos a desayunar tarde y nadar en las aguas verdes turquesas del océano. Cuando nos encontramos con Theresa por la tarde, nos dijo que nuestro fuego homa no dejó de arder hasta las 2 pm. Fue un milagro. ¿Cómo pueden arder las ramitas diminutas durante 17 horas? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">De vuelta en los Estados Unidos, la foto de Hanuman sentada en la cómoda junto a mi cama me recordaba las ramitas que se quemaron milagrosamente durante 17 horas. La puja funciona. Las oraciones funcionan. Tenía la idea en mi cabeza de que la adoración de los dioses antiguos restauraría la antigua gloria de México. Me convencí de que México se levantaría si los mexicanos comenzaban a adorar a sus antiguos dioses, además de a su amada Señora de Guadalupe. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ansioso por comenzar con la adoración, me sentí llamado a realizar un homa en la cima de la Pirámide del Sol en Teotihuacán por el bienestar de México y su gente. En 2007, mi amiga Jayashree aceptó acompañarme a la Ciudad de México. Nuestro conductor nos dejó en Teotihuacan temprano por la mañana, y subimos los escalones de la gran Pirámide del Sol. Llevaba un homa kund, leña, ghee, samugri, papel de aluminio para proteger el suelo de las manchas y las imágenes de las deidades. Jayashree llevaba un paraguas para evitar que el viento apagara el fuego. Una vez en la cima, creé un pequeño altar con imágenes de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Coatlicue, Ma Kali, Sri Ramakrishna y la Santa Madre. La imagen de Hanuman que habíamos adorado en Kailuum también estaba en el altar improvisado. </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1920" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJcF9x55-5ByiOlXRMHLbYsgFiC2niPhpc2r2vdQB4n24K9FcWkCxEAWVmzbyDHJsEiKoVCk7SRSZc-AqSx9jVL_WRFzJ4SLO7Coogn2zmHBFEcICAMXoB2PWqEgBtSOwZ5PK1WU15MxTHDRVLwj0Z5YcQl0cRwIHcH2mlTTiAQQlNsM0f1IQvE1k/w480-h640/P1010065.JPG" width="480" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">La homa fue genial. La Pirámide del Sol, al ser un punto de poder, me permitió deslizarme fácilmente en un intenso foco de oración. Vertiendo oblaciones en el fuego durante aproximadamente una hora, oré para despertar a los Antiguos para que hagan el bien a México y su gente. Cuando bajaos los empinados escalones de la pirámide, no quedaba ninguna evidencia del fuego. Una vez que bajamos, nuestro conductor nos mencionó que vio humo saliendo de la cima de la Pirámide del Sol, algo que nunca había visto. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yo no llamaría al homa en sí mismo un milagro. Lo que fue milagroso fue que pudimos completar una ceremonia de incendio en la parte superior del monumento nacional de México. En ese momento, no atribuí este milagro a Hanuman, ni siquiera porque su imagen estaba en el pequeño altar justo en frente de mí. Pensé que me salía con la mía realizando la ceremonia porque no lo había hecho por mí mismo. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">El recuerdo del voto de mi infancia de vengar a los incas se había quedado conmigo. Cuando se presentó la oportunidad en 2012 de inscribirse en un viaje a Machu Picchu patrocinado por la Facultad de Texas, me lancé a ello. Contra todo pronóstico me sentí seguro de que de alguna manera podría realizar un homa en Machu Picchu por el bienestar del Perú y su gente. Mi amiga Debra se unió a mí en esta peregrinación. El día antes del solsticio de verano, llegamos a nuestro hotel en Aguas Calientes, un pequeño pueblo al pie de la montaña que conduce a Machu Picchu. El líder del grupo encontró un guía que aceptó encontrar un lugar en Machu Picchu donde pudiera realizar una homa en el solsticio, el día sagrado de los incas. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Todavía estaba oscuro cuando nos encontramos con nuestro guía temprano a la mañana siguiente en la estación de autobuses. Mi corazón latía de emoción, con la esperanza de ver los primeros rayos de sol salir sobre el sagrado Machu Picchu. En medio de una multitud de personas, subimos empinados escalones en la oscuridad solo para llegar a la colina sobre Machu Picchu como los primeros rayos del sol asomaban sobre la montaña. Todos se detuvieron, aplaudiendo, gritando y aplaudiendo al sol. </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPWoZuMRK1SxmBwo52nJyQ3VLl1LKMOh0Tbu12LC5rvMekhiWPTrmAnaCJGZqOtGxm2fLegw_tY_udhzW5S6ZqnK3Ipb0bR6piao5SaCVjJGAFgbEX03S5-A420s_KtQMavHGNoopDQp3f5wVEh3TXHEK-7RdQc58TFGd40hyZPNRvkNMQgSimXPx/w260-h320/The-Incan-sun-god-Inti..jpg" width="260" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Mientras la gente se dirigía hacia las ruinas de Machu Picchu, el guía nos llevó por un camino lateral que conducía al famoso puente Inca. Allí, oculto a la vista por rocas gigantescas, levanté un pequeño altar con imágenes de Ma Kali, Coatlicue, Sri Ramakrishna y la Santa Madre. Como no tenía una imagen del Dios Sol Inca, usé una imagen del Dios Sol hindú. La imagen del Señor Hanuman que habíamos adorado en Kailuum también estaba en este altar. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Por fin, estaba a punto de cumplir mi promesa de la infancia hecha al Perú. La emoción, la gran altitud, el tiempo potente del solsticio y el poderoso vórtice energético de Machu Picchu me transportaron rápidamente a un intenso estado de oración. Durante casi dos horas, me olvidé del tiempo y a mí mismo y me convertí en uno con mantras, slokas y oraciones a los antiguos dioses del Perú. Que el Perú y su gente se levanten y recuperen su antigua gloria. Me sentí increíblemente aliviado después de que terminó la ceremonia. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">La imagen del Señor Hanuman estaba justo frente a mí, pero no le atribuí el este milagro de realizar un homa en Machu Picchu en los días más sagrados de los incas. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sin saberlo, nuestro guía había tomado fotos durante el homa y después ya no nos trató como turistas. Utilizó su bastón para cavar un agujero en el suelo y enterró las cenizas del homa cerca de las rocas. También preguntó si podía guardar la imagen de Ma Kali para su altar y dar el homa kund al chamán local. </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3456" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM8FrIcea7Yuf0ZmoMoYtlLm6pIw5NdTo8nMgr83xDG6I-Vn3Nd2NQrZeM0qOuBMM42DeXQiozZm9Nvd1cDSj2Rwph96f4hEN5TbRe051p1dtZbgH8ozJBt4YWxl9vLnFcCn5zGurk0jBKl3gqWIrYvRimu5KBk1TlnzYBR-E_QxYER5EnSi8zhza/w640-h480/861.JPG" width="640" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3456" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxpcOwsxWWwO85TP5yYm77wQswjmt7WC6a-NSJGCDHPJh8PV-UlcF_qRn60WKa7ETZbak87Zr3TJzwV6KHQAsiun-JIfMLrwxA4exupJfkvh0Hemn6UaCAH-GutTgcmuLcswlrYOi4BQD3lxMVrS3BHRSdKC2KH1tyOFAZiQjmo7lz9nED5gTZ6E4/w640-h480/867.JPG" width="640" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3456" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dcflnsU12U4WQbmhuCbP6rgvcWyYl8etquwkZBHZ3Sior2rc9F2cuoxBLdNUrxTGSxue_9qc1x4X7HaIrd-Hc2aETJ4fSY4i3Fcnz9tWe3HXZ1s0z28hAiAd4MWFSnhewZbpuCFx3gixiLLpKN3j7aNOVp4Y-MinslebfspO5J2epNWcOffh6Seg/w400-h300/871.JPG" width="400" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3456" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BVPg4MfI4tfyt9SzWDwSuR56o4nBbU3BSINVyeIEWAdscQd6qxv0XzXjhApES_XVG_A23vXGbKnb2C9xV0DR6VMRJMMmoNQy3QCq5eMrtNYwT3e1ephqSwJdzgkGu90A6SEgI3X0QECbP6fMrwpM8qZ5t7BUczdlbJ3ZNufoF8ohi-vY9NIBnU49/w400-h300/893.JPG" width="400" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Aunque no era consciente en ese momento, Lord Hanuman estuvo conmigo para dos fuegos homa más que surgieron inesperadamente. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">En 2009, Rampriya Das y yo fuimos a Joydev Mela en el pueblo de Kenduli en el distrito de Birbhum de Bengala Occidental. Nos reunimos con Haradhan Das Baul, un cantante baul tradicional al que conocía desde hacía más de 20 años. Los Bauls tradicionales de las aldeas son, en su mayoría, pobres, mientras que los artistas sofisticados, que cantan canciones de Baul para entretener a un público adinerado, reciben muchos ingresos. Para los Bauls, cantar es su sadhana. Cuando interpretan sus canciones místicas, comparten realmente su sadhana con el oyente. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Era Makar Sankranti y Haradhan me preguntó si estaría dispuesto a realizar un homa a las 2 am en el campo de cremación de Kenduli. El famoso gurú tántrico, Jai Shankar Baba, que solía hacer un homa cada año esa noche, había fallecido solo unos días antes. Como nadie más había dado un paso adelante para continuar esta tradición, consulté con Rampriya y acordamos hacer un homa sencillo. No tenía ningún libro con mantras ni utensilios rituales. Haradhan trajo ghee, ganja en lugar de samugri, y encontró un poco de madera en el terreno de cremación. Le había pedido a una señora del pueblo arroz crudo para ofrendas al fuego. En cambio, me entregó una olla con arroz cocido y una cuchara pequeña. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">El campo de cremación estaba tranquilo, aunque había cientos de personas levantadas durante la noche en el recinto de Mela. Nos sentamos frente a un pequeño templo cuyas puertas habían estado cerradas por la noche y repetimos el mantra de Shiva mientras vertíamos ghee y cucharamos arroz cocido en el fuego. Una vez que el fuego se apagó, las brasas brillantes aparecieron como los tres ojos de Ma. "Haradhan, inclínate", le dije. "Ma ha venido". Mientras Haradhan hacía sus pranams, grité: "¡Baul jago! ¡Baul levántate" </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">En ese instante, una tremenda ráfaga de viento hizo sonar las puertas del templo, arrojó ramas de los árboles y giró alrededor de nuestras cabezas. Los tres nos sobresaltamos bastante, considerando que esto sucedió a altas horas de la noche en un campo de cremación. Aunque debería haber pensado en Lord Hanuman, que es el Dios del Viento, él no estaba en mi mente en ese momento. Nuestro miedo al viento se convirtió en alegría tan pronto como las primeras grandes gotas de lluvia cayeron sobre nosotros. El cielo derramó bendiciones sobre el homa. De hecho, nos empapamos de láminas de lluvia mientras corríamos hacia la siguiente tienda de campaña del recinto de Mela. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Había hecho planes con mi amiga Debra para viajar a Nuevo México en 2020, donde esperaba realizar un homa en el Cañon Chaco para el bienestar de las naciones indígenas nativas americanas. Las estrellas estaban en una alineación auspiciosa en el solsticio de verano, y pensé que sería un buen momento para una oración intensa. Desafortunadamente, sucedió Covid y tuvimos que cancelar nuestro viaje. Realicé el homa en solsticio en Kali Mandir. No fue tan dramático como podría haber sido en el Cañón del Chaco, pero, sin embargo, fue intenso. Desde el fondo de mi corazón oré para que los Antiguos se levanten y hagan el bien a los pueblos nativos americanos. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">¿Fueron efectivos mis fuegos homa? ¿Escucharon los dioses antiguos mis oraciones? Dicen que hasta el aleteo de una mariposa tiene un efecto. El matemático Edward Lorenz inventó el término "Efecto Mariposa", una metáfora destinada a demostrar que los pequeños eventos pueden conducir a resultados significativos a lo largo del tiempo. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">En México hay ahora un nuevo templo para Lord Hanuman y uno para la diosa Coatlicue en Jamadi en las afueras de Querétaro. Me gusta pensar que, de alguna manera remota, mis oraciones habían ayudado con el establecimiento. La gran estatua de Hanuman fue creada por un artista mexicano. Los templos están dirigidos por mexicanos, y los devotos que adoran y cantan son mexicanos con invitados ocasionales de otros países. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkUYNmsgtGAs3wVxOs2J39dh9cUfMncDTk16G5iXU6nQuefhzDriC6vGy2GL4aLEHUATM9FFyQK0CGIu73-zIj8ao9KhDp4okly8v87Y94PLyiUWWI_CFzfTXnhoGJsaOrnA5xU9WUQ4xooIoFGiWH8-iwm99hvNwusq2Je77WX0YoZE0gdbiMfRQ/w640-h480/Hamadi3.jpg" width="640" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9exyrNVHU_rRkGk6gIUQgLZwStQ4596vYlz9EN2WKaFBMxi38RAKaKEWPOLqNVDq-x_7NPR_BE9pCP6viPBZdcQq5nSqVVLpUJpmnrrukdQiiaHAIGA_I95M_wp39gcuub35h-JmKDWUtiRb_UJ5qjtyjE_5oUSX1zOWVotqvLVtPDo6F3svWxk6z/w400-h225/Hanuman%20Puja.png" width="400" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="958" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlicBqRZaOwOWfO9VZ5-5G3NwFnQJpLU5kqDBgAFsod-0ewo99EOWQ7H-lTDxzhgpkadn5P0EkYfqaewigLPZqMy1GJ_D9tkjLq0WEdMkEghQqYz-MSw5VX5Bp5vP91of7T9pZfAkzfUZRHXWJAF35mc1eBr8gGUI5p7N5nnOmMYtDkYvQAKWSKgHG/s320/PHOTO-2019-11-29-14-36-25.jpg" width="320" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="1638" data-original-width="1228" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKd7OMaHNdyaigePrUpCRpj7CjBP_qqGNJCYFnmlGHLUJKwyNsNEYCHScpJbaqgPuuVBrk9tXuEcJbAxUNfrv7em_ev2UWpGnRYKeqTCTVCYk0D87DLY2Y69o-s-4_nLNGzuAiA1B0FHxJNCXq--KVHRDvBgEVH1S5VFbT1uMTy9LcaM51akypZl5/w300-h400/Hammadi2.jpg" width="300" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="2664" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50TqacODBVgxhOAuyFGv-PZjylXqfUcSnpY16-H0Dk887H3Eh-3SZDW4XGIngx4FELv__RQhMTgLvTpTRMJua0d97_KiIhqzOm-OWyuutCb1qya2Quxrilz7ng6nCXpVPeV7BA_Sl5oYLIPyR4ZbVmFsTrA4bsruEkC01ToUC6bph-WYjqEr628pY/w640-h426/IMG_5850.JPG" width="640" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="2664" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaNPKpIfxz6pww8imxs6OjYoXrPBUuS2SoYUwAjBvRRcBo2-CXMjD8fbbeVfE-oVmxK4wLMiuLZABqNHD8jVC3TTWknDvAVD63jFM1koaerSGTHaFfG8nJd8gfpPcJdViA74AmjyA1UBLxyD1FXed0ugmv-5rtRa0GM8QbUJUiT74rgxb3-2xQwvb/w640-h426/IMG_5865.JPG" width="640" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSShPCHGiM71WhdyxqKd-jdlrBm5JNviBiiQaWBLwZr8FEkG-QCPYQfv3fnDy9j6JqbsfRQFx6FhlELR9dtGc-3Fg8NIQ6ktg4lC0m6V1j_JbsyRpjOcD5n3hx3NWr2JOfXqW9rGJLH91vzUqS63wHsuAnuBn1oUoE6hY7qSkqye1yzoGhZCKU8B2/s320/9648d08f-73be-4df6-a696-3aee09597ae9.jpg" width="320" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hanuman no es ajeno a México. Según la mitología hindú, atravesó un túnel en busca de Sita, la esposa del Señor Rama. Hanuman atravesó la Tierra y salió por el otro lado, que algunos hindúes creen que está en algún lugar de México o Guatemala. Esto explica por qué los hindúes han visitado las ruinas mayas de Copán, ubicadas en lo más profundo de las selvas de Honduras cerca de la frontera con Guatemala. Una deidad mono que se parece un poco a Hanuman te mira fijamente en la entrada. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">La mayoría de los visitantes de esta zona de la selva son exploradores, aventureros y arqueólogos. Están buscando la legendaria "Ciudad Perdida del Dios Mono" donde se rumorea que hay una estatua gigante de un mono enterrada entre oro y tesoros. Llevan buscando esta ciudad desde la época de los conquistadores españoles, pero hasta el día de hoy, esta ciudad nunca se ha encontrado. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="374" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIOqwrQim4EeiTUhDmjprAjpfhWt6AOTZTdmdkL8xVwrb6mNe8ZMgv69pZG3E9X7eWVQuRehKeQ_plg7A0-frRX4ZEQY96Hxy8JWNNKkS8_cJLgmKkDNiZ4MN2l2vPqJ2-Ia5HbYbrB9MSluGhW3akbDX_5waSOSQ-yjw8RT8XSnYgVrk3Nj1qOC0h/w478-h640/pks60ifvlvy51.jpg" width="478" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">La imagen de Hanuman que adoramos en Kailuum en 2005 me ha acompañado en todos mis viajes. Siempre fue una de las imágenes sagradas que llevaba. A menudo damos algo por sentado y no lo apreciamos lo suficiente hasta que se ha ido. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hace poco, Debra y yo volvimos a Quintana Roo en 2022 y nos alojamos por una semana en un encantador bungalow cerca de la playa. En la mañana antes de nuestro regreso a los Estados Unidos, estaba acostado en la cama, escuchando el canto de innumerables aves tropicales. De repente, un pensamiento que se sentía más como un comando me golpeó. Debía levantarme y entregar la imagen de Hanuman al jardinero que trabajaba en el hotel ecológico. Esta imagen me acompañaba desde hacía mucho tiempo, y pensé que estaba bien dejarla ir. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">El sol acababa de salir sobre el océano cuando llegué a la playa y vi al jardinero rastrillando las algas de la arena blanca. Me acerqué a él y, como no hablo español, simplemente saqué la foto de Hanuman a mitad de camino de la bolsa de seda roja y se la mostré. Señalando la imagen, dije: "Este es el dios mono". El jardinero me miró y luego miró la imagen. Sin decir una palabra, tomó la foto de Hanuman, la volvió a poner en la bolsa de seda y se fue con ella. </span></p><p><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxcMjDMT7plTFnqzG3FAYp0NMC3MmX97PY0ESd2CYYgLbUYPmHsA1rRQ5FmhqI0LnPHEy7Nl7Nc2IoJGCI_RNoqpb1USd0Sq-RclF41tfpUxMHyL6nC3l3g2TC50RFAvm3y3AgFJm0QNGAnt-_YewAQ7MFHhs6KNVfAwqzGQb2kUIo_Sjn4bluPnR4/s320/IMG_1454.jpeg" width="240" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Me sorprendió que la transacción ocurriera tan rápido. La foto de Hanuman con la que había viajado desapareció en un instante. Tuve que contener las lágrimas. ¿Cómo no sabía que estaba tan íntimamente apegado a esta imagen? Podría haberle pedido al jardinero que me devolviera la imagen, pero en mi corazón sabía que debía dejarla ir. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">De vuelta en los Estados Unidos, pensando en este incidente, de repente me di cuenta de que Hanuman Jayanti acababa de fallecer cuando estábamos en México. Me di cuenta de que desde nuestro primer homa en 2005, que ardió durante 17 horas, -casi hasta el día-, la imagen de Hanuman había estado conmigo durante 17 años. Hanuman vino a mí en las arenas de Quintana Roo, y me dejó en las arenas de Quintana Roo. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ahora que esta foto de él se ha ido físicamente, tendré que ver a Hanuman en mi corazón. La esencia de Dios sólo puede ser entendida por el corazón. El cerebro solo rellena los detalles glamurosos. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Terminé este artículo anoche. Esta mañana, me di cuenta de que es el Solsticio: 21 de junio de 2022. Publicamos este artículo hoy en honor al Señor Hanuman y a todas las homas milagrosas que nos concedió. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="650" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyBaYnEuVydhPHtZvI2ICJmIgCRA6aNmLhgqmCAn5r7-9KNd6s1pvmWj9353A_TjG5R838RRzwzEOyQc841_l_INXI2ZjKsMW3KsgY2K7kz0uGh_Mnc5GZOtxwu4QT9FkfIPm2J9thO-q7y-Ry3aIrAOpstCJF41M4dWESRxCOqNPDcYrUoYeIZiJ/w200-h168/aus_37_00_2.jpg" width="200" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Terminé este artículo anoche. Esta mañana, me di cuenta de que es solsticio: 21 de junio de 2022. Publicamos este artículo hoy en honor al Señor Hanuman y todos los homas milagrosos que nos otorgó. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Quemado
</span></p>Elizabeth Usha Hardinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00089850526408986284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-58941354214004831132022-06-21T20:20:00.000-07:002022-06-22T15:27:29.022-07:00<h1 style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></h1><h1 style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">बुद्धिहीन तनु जानिके, सुमिरौं पवन कुमार |</span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">बल बुद्धिविद्या देहु मोहिं, हरहु कलेश विकार ||</span></span></h1><h3 style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">buddhi hīn tanu jānike, sumirauṁ pavan kumār |</span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">bal buddhi vidyā dehu mohiṁ, harahu kaleś vikār ||</span></i><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">“Realizing the inadequacy of my intellect, I meditate on you, O Hanuman, the son of the wind-god; grant me strength, intelligence and true knowledge, and remove all my afflictions and blemishes.”</span></span></span></span></span></span></h3><h3 style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">-from the doha of the <i>Hanuman Chalisa</i> </span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> <br /></span></h3><h2 style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Lord Hanuman in Mexico</span></h2><p></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;">On
a full moon night in 2005, Hanuman appeared before us on a white sandy beach in
Quintana Roo, Mexico.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stayed with me
for 17 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though he was always near
me, I never fathomed the extent of his presence until he was gone one recent
morning on the same beach, just further south.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;">During
these 17 years many extraordinary things happened, in which I had a role to
play. Though the actions I felt
compelled to do were perhaps unusual, they didn’t feel that much out of the
ordinary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In retrospect, however, the realization
dawned on me how some of the things I did in good faith should, in actuality,
have been next to impossible to carry out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I contributed my sincerity, Lord Hanuman
provided the magic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;">I
have always had a deep feeling for ancient peoples and cultures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was a child growing up in Vienna,
Austria, I got so mad when I read about the massacre of the Incas. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cut my finger and dripped a few drops of
blood on the history book, vowing to set things right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As one ages, one learns that you can neither
change history nor the nature of mankind.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;">To
explain the story of Hanuman’s appearance in Mexico, I need to give a bit of
history on what led up to the event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
the 1970s, I fell in love with a photograph of Sri Ramakrishna at the Hollywood
Temple of the Vedanta Society. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrArH3SFUNo1ZRplLGNEaDxVaeN9xNEmNeKJAhMtksoNrJ1z0GqPTYX8RCeL94hXtBXbs1VxaOfSed1CK8Ghbb_7B1njuHSv65EtnujtFow_lIqamDEbkXeaF56UP0907fm9ijiB-U2h_T3rPNF8UzlEdF8D4H1jSxPKOcJqZixL7cANgLXYMM5SY/s5475/Sri%20RK%20shrine%20pose%20color2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5475" data-original-width="3886" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrArH3SFUNo1ZRplLGNEaDxVaeN9xNEmNeKJAhMtksoNrJ1z0GqPTYX8RCeL94hXtBXbs1VxaOfSed1CK8Ghbb_7B1njuHSv65EtnujtFow_lIqamDEbkXeaF56UP0907fm9ijiB-U2h_T3rPNF8UzlEdF8D4H1jSxPKOcJqZixL7cANgLXYMM5SY/w214-h302/Sri%20RK%20shrine%20pose%20color2.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sri Ramakrishna<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It
took some time, but my love for Sri Ramakrishna and some hard knocks of life were
able to reduce my ego and prepare my heart for surrender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Countless pilgrimages to holy places in India
gave me a taste for divine experience.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By
the year 2000, I was all set to go to Mount Kailash in the Himalayas, eager to
perform a homa, a sacred fire ceremony, on top of the world for the welfare of
all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friend Nandu helped me by
teaching me how to perform a simple homa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I practiced the mantras, bought the necessary items and was ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Days before departure, I received a call from
the Nepali travel agent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My trip was
cancelled, but the momentum for going on a pilgrimage and performing a homa remained
very strong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style>This
turned out to be fortuitous as the momentum brought me south of the border and
made me fall in love with Mexico.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
some time, I had wanted to visit the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe but had always
hesitated because of language problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As luck would have it, Swami Bhajanananda, who speaks fluent Spanish,
had just returned from India and offered to accompany me.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
feeling one gets in Mexico is similar to what one experiences in India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Magic episodes seem quite normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I woke up early in my hotel room in Mexico
City to a voice talking in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Though this is rather
unusual, it didn’t seem so at the time. The voice spoke English like a
newscaster, and lying on my queen size bed under crisp, white sheets, I
listened to a running commentary on historical and modern events in Mexico gone
wrong. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have switched off this
voice, telling myself not to give in to crazy notions like listening to a voice
in my head, but I didn’t because the things the voice said made sense.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My
plan was to go first to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe.</span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, circumstances first brought me to the
National Museum of Anthropology that houses treasures recovered from the Olmec,
Aztec and Mayan civilizations. Some of Mexico’s most powerful gods live there,
and sadly, they are referred to as historical. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would visitors do if they could see all
these gods and goddesses come alive?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Though
the Basilica was the next place to visit, fate took me instead outside Mexico
City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In awe, I stood at Teotihuacan, a
vast archeological site with a soaring sun pyramid and a huge moon pyramid
linked by the wide Avenue of the Dead. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people who built Teotihuacan had kept God
in the center of their lives and activities to build their city around pyramids
and temples<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6G-VLETE0vf8cZey7eFn0ARIr0qtBwYfbhl-icVdFIH28pEyypUYOdo0VPskZsErp6vF6yw-Z5Y1XuKEwc3W6VHTk3iEZ26IuaBQZUjEv0dBYo1SkvlBZs52wBeX6Fm4r4xHrwJ1fze_q9t4pvtzwcMooTxWGy0a9TVv6zSflmepzUc4PhhhfGOR/s4511/Our%20Lady%20of%20Guadalupe4x6good.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4511" data-original-width="2819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6G-VLETE0vf8cZey7eFn0ARIr0qtBwYfbhl-icVdFIH28pEyypUYOdo0VPskZsErp6vF6yw-Z5Y1XuKEwc3W6VHTk3iEZ26IuaBQZUjEv0dBYo1SkvlBZs52wBeX6Fm4r4xHrwJ1fze_q9t4pvtzwcMooTxWGy0a9TVv6zSflmepzUc4PhhhfGOR/s320/Our%20Lady%20of%20Guadalupe4x6good.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lady of Guadalupe<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span>After Teotihuacan, I did visit
the Basilica and stood in silent wonder underneath the miraculous picture of
Our Lady of Guadalupe, the savior of indigenous Mexicans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When
you have an open mind, the land of Mexico speaks to you just like the sacred
land in India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mexico first showed me
its past glory and then brought me to its modern Basilica.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After
Mexico City, Swami and I flew to Quintana Roo to spend a couple of days on the
beach at an eco-lodge called Kailuum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hoping
to perform a homa on the beach, I brought with me the ingredients I had gathered
for Mount Kailash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would have been
awkward if I would have performed the homa when Swami, who is more adept in
performing rituals, was present. While Swami performed the fire ceremony, I
marveled at fate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of being high
in the mountains at Kailash, I was in Kailuum on the beach watching sacred flames
carry prayers to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
<span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Years
went by, but the feeling that I did not fulfill my intent for performing the homa
in 2000 lingered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five years later in
2005, my friends Debra, Kalyani and Theresa agreed to accompany me to
Kailuum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
<span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">We planned
to perform a homa on the white sand close to the ocean on the full moon night
of Hanuman Jayanti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6puMYq5HDVLXdZB5rBmjSfU-bqS6U7jlV95CA_h4yVJXE87_pGqdgBB2xGs15bGcshDLUa5zmcPCR_k3prxGpSAVvl2GgKXzTmOFmyIZMZJbfgkussBtD9KNqD5cYRV_08ZQ2Wns8zzzolblWre_M_X2hbmDehbsdIrSugGGE3MAvQABplU2_0UQ/s822/Hanuman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6puMYq5HDVLXdZB5rBmjSfU-bqS6U7jlV95CA_h4yVJXE87_pGqdgBB2xGs15bGcshDLUa5zmcPCR_k3prxGpSAVvl2GgKXzTmOFmyIZMZJbfgkussBtD9KNqD5cYRV_08ZQ2Wns8zzzolblWre_M_X2hbmDehbsdIrSugGGE3MAvQABplU2_0UQ/w469-h640/Hanuman.jpg" width="469" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lord Hanuman</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>For that reason, I
chose to bring a picture of Hanuman as the deity to be worshipped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It
was not just any picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A devotee once
brought this picture of Hanuman to Kali Mandir, claiming it to be a photo of
the actual Hanuman and not a painting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
used a standup plastic frame for holding up Hanuman’s picture in the sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When the frame looked too plain, I decorated it with
some devotional stickers my friend Guru Bhakti had given me from the local Hare
Krishna Temple.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Kailuum,
which unfortunately no longer exists, was a magical place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
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{page:WordSe</style></span></span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">We
slept in army tents under palapas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With
the exception of the communal bathroom, there were no hard floors in Kailuum,
only white sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtMnuNpCYJh0-UUjAeiS0XB9m8wMCXMHxptVzdccpWC3_tKbECPPxQcJNt17VYJ40F9ydXQ-X-wikWHRizkGcylSUYGSgppmji6R1iAf4QodtaW4TS5FdSrSM8qNrOEEZS_rpbrPgpOYImFIuQa0MSXAIqGMJ-AgvYuSUAKfLIXJGALo3pOm7ENwM/s2592/Mexico%20121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtMnuNpCYJh0-UUjAeiS0XB9m8wMCXMHxptVzdccpWC3_tKbECPPxQcJNt17VYJ40F9ydXQ-X-wikWHRizkGcylSUYGSgppmji6R1iAf4QodtaW4TS5FdSrSM8qNrOEEZS_rpbrPgpOYImFIuQa0MSXAIqGMJ-AgvYuSUAKfLIXJGALo3pOm7ENwM/w400-h300/Mexico%20121.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74GZ0gNdUDMsGnFAwhVRWWMPDB20-H17i512lzvCerykaYuU-X3P3w-aNeVXo6SGz9z6lMY7XBBH29yUG6Q8f9SncyLaWESTwPl64WYw2r1QHirJ4xSSVrWpymsQjvGZ6q2x2fujd95ujM-Zez_F0gdL3RxWuOffVWNaKzMV-9Y-nHw8HCdpWBc2N/s2592/Mexico%20119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74GZ0gNdUDMsGnFAwhVRWWMPDB20-H17i512lzvCerykaYuU-X3P3w-aNeVXo6SGz9z6lMY7XBBH29yUG6Q8f9SncyLaWESTwPl64WYw2r1QHirJ4xSSVrWpymsQjvGZ6q2x2fujd95ujM-Zez_F0gdL3RxWuOffVWNaKzMV-9Y-nHw8HCdpWBc2N/w400-h300/Mexico%20119.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">No electricity, only
candles and torches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We dined by candlelight
and watched the stars at night.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GZQArjnce6ClNsQ3x3O7AnPvdjHgV1IaBeiloXFN_Y3jrymj6saVeHdcOMnonj3Cqg69iXCWxEP0WmmsOfGQ7b9OElENp1GIc1Mt1_h353BdawDxPNkboEHmUlxF_3RjyBA0N9yl-vJJbHHvUUKqNDgBootXFuNcGuVNwl74KrB97RkWJEIe05Co/s2592/Mexico%20097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GZQArjnce6ClNsQ3x3O7AnPvdjHgV1IaBeiloXFN_Y3jrymj6saVeHdcOMnonj3Cqg69iXCWxEP0WmmsOfGQ7b9OElENp1GIc1Mt1_h353BdawDxPNkboEHmUlxF_3RjyBA0N9yl-vJJbHHvUUKqNDgBootXFuNcGuVNwl74KrB97RkWJEIe05Co/w640-h480/Mexico%20097.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theresa, Kalyani and I<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
had brought the finest ingredients for the homa: ghee, incense and samugri containing
nuts, herbs, powders and fragrant resin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Kailuum office staff kindly offered to supply the wood. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GNi2iQWQuoMJGzhw3bubQgqhFPqbsk5zPgPkG2UGhUt6D2z_0HEspNCCGQRu8pM9vHRJlqOQ-QxkBNSE83IZZsKv1cORDx0STVlpVY5ok6dTvmbGwquvEt4z_fOFlkSgb24Aa-rDlqrbjSy1sTPh7MBE97obynr_icpVNHjowPzra15NRoSmuFH5/s2560/P1010137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GNi2iQWQuoMJGzhw3bubQgqhFPqbsk5zPgPkG2UGhUt6D2z_0HEspNCCGQRu8pM9vHRJlqOQ-QxkBNSE83IZZsKv1cORDx0STVlpVY5ok6dTvmbGwquvEt4z_fOFlkSgb24Aa-rDlqrbjSy1sTPh7MBE97obynr_icpVNHjowPzra15NRoSmuFH5/s320/P1010137.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kailuum office staff<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfAhUC6SUrKraXmLl84vDMDEn7MU1S1QRAS6-XCyz2iskE90dyRb-12yWupwSFQZMgeg4UpfC5GDOZ2Emd0YPcKs2lPwKgpNBxrmaJOO_nlpY3SqcU3_w_AZVoB71V0BnoQNJifE2c3itRffWUYGxo33BTxvzX4RKOnUu2sTblPTi-DsClnZFQ1fs/s2592/Mexico%20094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfAhUC6SUrKraXmLl84vDMDEn7MU1S1QRAS6-XCyz2iskE90dyRb-12yWupwSFQZMgeg4UpfC5GDOZ2Emd0YPcKs2lPwKgpNBxrmaJOO_nlpY3SqcU3_w_AZVoB71V0BnoQNJifE2c3itRffWUYGxo33BTxvzX4RKOnUu2sTblPTi-DsClnZFQ1fs/s320/Mexico%20094.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wood stacked for bonfire<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It
was the full moon night of Hanuman Jayanti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the early
evening hours, I kept practicing the homa fire mantras Nandu had given me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Around 9 pm, the four of us walked on the
beach to the designated place for the fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As we passed the last palapa, we saw a big bonfire, already lit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The friendly people at the office obviously
misunderstood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What to do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They tried to be helpful by lighting the wood
intended for the homa. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did we
know that this “perceived mishap” catapulted our plan for a homa into a miraculous
event. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Making
the best of a disappointing situation, we dug a hole
into the sand and gathered as many twigs as we could find on the beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prayed to Lord Hanuman to keep our small
fire going until I finished the homa mantras.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH2FZDhKgZk4f9nE8Watdc3z6vA_9ahjTQGh78TNe5932XgXhJ5nfrKRzHAEMh6ArQXgqvHUwqzq6uGEU58eqazZVNJKLql1Bsolo0WoxtF2yEWdXBhHNJMpVukQ7V4zR_kPOUbAWno0eB3rFXLJpld3WcAQIj5oNkLVvKBNHgFN-3RSQ8qL3dnJZ9/s2592/Mexico%20102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH2FZDhKgZk4f9nE8Watdc3z6vA_9ahjTQGh78TNe5932XgXhJ5nfrKRzHAEMh6ArQXgqvHUwqzq6uGEU58eqazZVNJKLql1Bsolo0WoxtF2yEWdXBhHNJMpVukQ7V4zR_kPOUbAWno0eB3rFXLJpld3WcAQIj5oNkLVvKBNHgFN-3RSQ8qL3dnJZ9/w640-h480/Mexico%20102.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12OaCl_EVZdNIXk2RJim29_Z3Yh8Ek-siu9UheTKhx0_njIWZlKBGH9Ue25UI741SLppk5ipl5zov-whZpNhUTjF43KexRLKR_EyOq8Sqdvn1gxhKId0h80nkD6E7IYGJHn9bCOOfoN4gedArfXoAOupT-X_PkP4wU1ALmHhAmB6ukY4AsSz5rrqn/s2592/Mexico%20104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12OaCl_EVZdNIXk2RJim29_Z3Yh8Ek-siu9UheTKhx0_njIWZlKBGH9Ue25UI741SLppk5ipl5zov-whZpNhUTjF43KexRLKR_EyOq8Sqdvn1gxhKId0h80nkD6E7IYGJHn9bCOOfoN4gedArfXoAOupT-X_PkP4wU1ALmHhAmB6ukY4AsSz5rrqn/w640-h480/Mexico%20104.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">U<span style="font-size: x-small;">sha, Kalyani and Debra<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;</style><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwTgTrBhpYHwmVpX66zISMaYm_FpwH5WkpMWLMT29ORCV7UKwL1vpY80-e-Se8DOZVzETjal7dtvUw9gOWuCNxCQrvtlhWNovJSFgT2iuzO-pfeZ9vzxFXC8tK1j5HQNwsxRb1RQUfJ97PxzR-gCFQkzY2qCuFVFfSaMcGscbI3yVyQklUGM7LddR/s2592/Mexico%20108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwTgTrBhpYHwmVpX66zISMaYm_FpwH5WkpMWLMT29ORCV7UKwL1vpY80-e-Se8DOZVzETjal7dtvUw9gOWuCNxCQrvtlhWNovJSFgT2iuzO-pfeZ9vzxFXC8tK1j5HQNwsxRb1RQUfJ97PxzR-gCFQkzY2qCuFVFfSaMcGscbI3yVyQklUGM7LddR/w640-h480/Mexico%20108.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">The
full moon was up, shining brightly on a calm ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything was still, only the fire was
making crackling sounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I completed the
homa mantras – I could read them well due to light coming from the big bonfire
-- and we offered all ghee and fragrant items into the fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jai Hanuman!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPH7mQvkl2taLWn8NvKoEzlNPeKDSKsCPs6eK7rjwGgswxt8aeML-gEZSUDuk7Grks-_pJucFiL0cW9GVfixwIsWdn4wjGnh9CurpjHUbhTz5DUwXv2O-OK0Tkn5ZzhuV5C6drMv0joDqzO3Q50CW8tfJoVRMXpkbe44RKzCLL7HiHSmPj94XUa9j/s2592/Mexico%20112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPH7mQvkl2taLWn8NvKoEzlNPeKDSKsCPs6eK7rjwGgswxt8aeML-gEZSUDuk7Grks-_pJucFiL0cW9GVfixwIsWdn4wjGnh9CurpjHUbhTz5DUwXv2O-OK0Tkn5ZzhuV5C6drMv0joDqzO3Q50CW8tfJoVRMXpkbe44RKzCLL7HiHSmPj94XUa9j/w400-h300/Mexico%20112.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theresa, Usha and Kalyani<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hours
passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The big bonfire had gone out
some time ago, but our little fire was still burning brightly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpB0-SBUyU78LqIXgWfOxu4jsAnHWze2pk9NEzBHLDJbglfS4EqFeNoeghAcdCOS74oUcHeSOFqmA0I9blYAR47eCX0WXZ75JnrvS4AsSB34IRRkKxhR3aqXAc_R4-QAC20r0HBCHqp3OnQdxLgNWZtARwIEcQJ1kHwB0HE3moIfWsGKne-yAZVsd/s2592/Mexico%20107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpB0-SBUyU78LqIXgWfOxu4jsAnHWze2pk9NEzBHLDJbglfS4EqFeNoeghAcdCOS74oUcHeSOFqmA0I9blYAR47eCX0WXZ75JnrvS4AsSB34IRRkKxhR3aqXAc_R4-QAC20r0HBCHqp3OnQdxLgNWZtARwIEcQJ1kHwB0HE3moIfWsGKne-yAZVsd/w640-h480/Mexico%20107.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little homa fire still burns while the big bonfire in the back is almost out. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Every time we thought the fire had gone out
and bowed to leave, a flame soared up again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We left the site around 1 am with the homa still smoldering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Theresa asked the nearby guard not to
extinguish the fire but to let it burn out on its own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guard consented to watch the sacred fire
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
first thing I did when I got up the next morning was to walk to the homa fire
site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Theresa was already sitting there
meditating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was still smoke coming
from our homa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kalyani, Debra and I went
for a late breakfast and a swim in the turquoise green waters of the ocean. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we met Theresa in the afternoon, she told
us that our homa fire did not stop smoldering until 2 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a miracle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can tiny twigs burn for 17 hours?</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLHu5E08V14h0ScOertIWW5lh3K6Y4PSzlvKXCAPQ6wzMRwegSY_dOWwKvkWpXtXxtrfTkWki7kSQ3MY99fH33LknQE7Olts3sDUM2zYs6I8peKNcwuvmYp0t7frvly07GIlxaB5QOhlAih3OjgRigVgYvI11kkWo-nbc209LEfX9BECRaDLoFw4dZ/s2560/P1010082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLHu5E08V14h0ScOertIWW5lh3K6Y4PSzlvKXCAPQ6wzMRwegSY_dOWwKvkWpXtXxtrfTkWki7kSQ3MY99fH33LknQE7Olts3sDUM2zYs6I8peKNcwuvmYp0t7frvly07GIlxaB5QOhlAih3OjgRigVgYvI11kkWo-nbc209LEfX9BECRaDLoFw4dZ/w400-h300/P1010082.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Back
in the U.S., Hanuman’s picture sitting on the chest of drawers next to my bed
kept reminding me of the twigs that miraculously burned for 17 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puja works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Prayers work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got the idea in
my head that worship of the ancient gods would restore Mexico’s ancient glory.
I became convinced that Mexico would rise up if Mexicans would start
worshipping their ancient gods in addition to their beloved Lady of Guadalupe.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Eager to get started with worship, I felt called to perform a homa on top of the Sun
Pyramid at Teotihuacan for the welfare of Mexico and its people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 2007, my friend Jayashree agreed to
accompany me to Mexico City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our driver
dropped us off at Teotihuacan early in the morning, and we climbed up the steps
of the great Sun Pyramid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I carried a
homa kund, firewood, ghee, samugri, foil to protect the ground from stains and
pictures of deities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jayashree carried
an umbrella to block the wind from blowing out the fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once on top, I created a small altar with
pictures of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Coatlicue, Ma Kali, Sri Ramakrishna and Holy
Mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The picture of Hanuman we had worshipped
in Kailuum was also on the makeshift altar.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">The
homa was great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Sun Pyramid, being a
power spot, allowed me to slip easily into intense focus of prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pouring oblations into the fire for about an
hour, I prayed to wake up the Ancients so they may do good for Mexico and its
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no evidence of a fire
left behind when we descended the steep steps of the pyramid.</span>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJcF9x55-5ByiOlXRMHLbYsgFiC2niPhpc2r2vdQB4n24K9FcWkCxEAWVmzbyDHJsEiKoVCk7SRSZc-AqSx9jVL_WRFzJ4SLO7Coogn2zmHBFEcICAMXoB2PWqEgBtSOwZ5PK1WU15MxTHDRVLwj0Z5YcQl0cRwIHcH2mlTTiAQQlNsM0f1IQvE1k/s2560/P1010065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1920" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJcF9x55-5ByiOlXRMHLbYsgFiC2niPhpc2r2vdQB4n24K9FcWkCxEAWVmzbyDHJsEiKoVCk7SRSZc-AqSx9jVL_WRFzJ4SLO7Coogn2zmHBFEcICAMXoB2PWqEgBtSOwZ5PK1WU15MxTHDRVLwj0Z5YcQl0cRwIHcH2mlTTiAQQlNsM0f1IQvE1k/w480-h640/P1010065.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top of the Pyramid of the Sun at Teotihuacan with a view of the Pyramid of the Moon</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Once
we got back down, our driver did mention to us that he saw smoke rising from
the top of the Sun Pyramid, something he had never seen before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
wouldn’t call the homa itself a miracle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What was miraculous was that we were able to complete a fire ceremony on
top of Mexico’s national monument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
that time, I did not attribute this miracle to Hanuman even though his picture
was on the little altar right in front of me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought that I got away with performing the
ceremony because I hadn’t done it for myself. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
memory of my childhood’s vow to avenge the Incas had stayed with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When an opportunity presented itself in 2012
to enroll in a Texas University Faculty-sponsored trip to Machu Picchu, I
jumped on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Against all odds I felt
confident that somehow I could perform a homa at Machu Picchu for the welfare
of Peru and its people. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friend Debra
joined me on this pilgrimage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the day
before Summer Solstice, we reached our hotel in Aguas Calientes, a small town at
the foot of the mountain that leads to Machu Picchu. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The group leader found a guide who agreed to
find a place on Machu Picchu where I could perform a homa on Solstice, the holy
day of the Incas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It
was still dark when we met our guide early next morning at the bus
station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart was pounding with
excitement, hoping to see the first rays of sun rise over sacred Machu
Picchu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amid a crowd of people, we
stumbled up steep steps in the dark just to reach the hill above Machu Picchu
as the first rays of the sun peeked over the mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everybody came to a halt, clapping, shouting
and applauding the sun.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPWoZuMRK1SxmBwo52nJyQ3VLl1LKMOh0Tbu12LC5rvMekhiWPTrmAnaCJGZqOtGxm2fLegw_tY_udhzW5S6ZqnK3Ipb0bR6piao5SaCVjJGAFgbEX03S5-A420s_KtQMavHGNoopDQp3f5wVEh3TXHEK-7RdQc58TFGd40hyZPNRvkNMQgSimXPx/s406/The-Incan-sun-god-Inti..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPWoZuMRK1SxmBwo52nJyQ3VLl1LKMOh0Tbu12LC5rvMekhiWPTrmAnaCJGZqOtGxm2fLegw_tY_udhzW5S6ZqnK3Ipb0bR6piao5SaCVjJGAFgbEX03S5-A420s_KtQMavHGNoopDQp3f5wVEh3TXHEK-7RdQc58TFGd40hyZPNRvkNMQgSimXPx/w260-h320/The-Incan-sun-god-Inti..jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Incan Sun God<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><style>@font-face
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<span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">As
people streamed toward the ruins of Machu Picchu, the guide took us on a side path
that led to the famous Inca bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There,
hidden from view by gigantic rocks, I erected a small altar with pictures of Ma
Kali, Coatlicue, Sri Ramakrishna and Holy Mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I did not have a picture of the Incan
Sun God at the time, I used a picture of the Hindu Sun God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The picture of Lord Hanuman we had worshipped in Kailuum was also on
this altar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM8FrIcea7Yuf0ZmoMoYtlLm6pIw5NdTo8nMgr83xDG6I-Vn3Nd2NQrZeM0qOuBMM42DeXQiozZm9Nvd1cDSj2Rwph96f4hEN5TbRe051p1dtZbgH8ozJBt4YWxl9vLnFcCn5zGurk0jBKl3gqWIrYvRimu5KBk1TlnzYBR-E_QxYER5EnSi8zhza/s3456/861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3456" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM8FrIcea7Yuf0ZmoMoYtlLm6pIw5NdTo8nMgr83xDG6I-Vn3Nd2NQrZeM0qOuBMM42DeXQiozZm9Nvd1cDSj2Rwph96f4hEN5TbRe051p1dtZbgH8ozJBt4YWxl9vLnFcCn5zGurk0jBKl3gqWIrYvRimu5KBk1TlnzYBR-E_QxYER5EnSi8zhza/w640-h480/861.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Usha and Debra performing a homa at Machu Picchu on Solstice<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxpcOwsxWWwO85TP5yYm77wQswjmt7WC6a-NSJGCDHPJh8PV-UlcF_qRn60WKa7ETZbak87Zr3TJzwV6KHQAsiun-JIfMLrwxA4exupJfkvh0Hemn6UaCAH-GutTgcmuLcswlrYOi4BQD3lxMVrS3BHRSdKC2KH1tyOFAZiQjmo7lz9nED5gTZ6E4/s3456/867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3456" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxpcOwsxWWwO85TP5yYm77wQswjmt7WC6a-NSJGCDHPJh8PV-UlcF_qRn60WKa7ETZbak87Zr3TJzwV6KHQAsiun-JIfMLrwxA4exupJfkvh0Hemn6UaCAH-GutTgcmuLcswlrYOi4BQD3lxMVrS3BHRSdKC2KH1tyOFAZiQjmo7lz9nED5gTZ6E4/w640-h480/867.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At
last, I was about to fulfill my childhood promise made to Peru.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Excitement, high altitude, the potent time of
Solstice and the powerful energy vortex of Machu Picchu quickly transported me
into an intense state of prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
almost two hours, I forgot time and myself and became one with mantras, slokas
and prayers to the ancient gods of Peru. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May Peru and its people rise up and regain
their ancient glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt incredibly
relieved after the ceremony was finished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lord
Hanuman’s picture was right in front of me, but I did not attribute to him this
miracle of performing a homa on Machu Picchu on the most sacred days of the
Incas.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Unbeknownst
to me, our guide had takem pictures during the homa and afterwards no longer
treated us like tourists. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He used his
stick to dig a hole in the ground and buried the ashes of the homa near the
rocks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also asked if he could keep
the picture of Ma Kali for his altar and give the homa kund to the local
shaman.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dcflnsU12U4WQbmhuCbP6rgvcWyYl8etquwkZBHZ3Sior2rc9F2cuoxBLdNUrxTGSxue_9qc1x4X7HaIrd-Hc2aETJ4fSY4i3Fcnz9tWe3HXZ1s0z28hAiAd4MWFSnhewZbpuCFx3gixiLLpKN3j7aNOVp4Y-MinslebfspO5J2epNWcOffh6Seg/s3456/871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3456" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dcflnsU12U4WQbmhuCbP6rgvcWyYl8etquwkZBHZ3Sior2rc9F2cuoxBLdNUrxTGSxue_9qc1x4X7HaIrd-Hc2aETJ4fSY4i3Fcnz9tWe3HXZ1s0z28hAiAd4MWFSnhewZbpuCFx3gixiLLpKN3j7aNOVp4Y-MinslebfspO5J2epNWcOffh6Seg/w400-h300/871.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the guide and Usha<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BVPg4MfI4tfyt9SzWDwSuR56o4nBbU3BSINVyeIEWAdscQd6qxv0XzXjhApES_XVG_A23vXGbKnb2C9xV0DR6VMRJMMmoNQy3QCq5eMrtNYwT3e1ephqSwJdzgkGu90A6SEgI3X0QECbP6fMrwpM8qZ5t7BUczdlbJ3ZNufoF8ohi-vY9NIBnU49/s3456/893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3456" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BVPg4MfI4tfyt9SzWDwSuR56o4nBbU3BSINVyeIEWAdscQd6qxv0XzXjhApES_XVG_A23vXGbKnb2C9xV0DR6VMRJMMmoNQy3QCq5eMrtNYwT3e1ephqSwJdzgkGu90A6SEgI3X0QECbP6fMrwpM8qZ5t7BUczdlbJ3ZNufoF8ohi-vY9NIBnU49/w400-h300/893.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>
<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Though
I was not aware at the time, Lord Hanuman was with me for two more homa fires
that came up unexpectedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In
2009 Rampriya Das and I went to Joydev Mela held at the village of Kenduli in
the Birbhum district of West Bengal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We met
with Haradhan Das Baul, a traditional Baul singer I had known for over 20 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Traditional village Bauls are mostly poor,
while sophisticated artists, who sing Baul songs to entertain well-heeled
audiences, receive plenty of income. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
the Bauls, singing is their sadhana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
they perform their mystic songs, they really share their sadhana <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with the listener.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It
was Makar Sankranti and Haradhan asked me if I would be willing to perform a
homa at 2 am at the Kenduli cremation ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The famous tantric guru, Jai Shankar Baba, who used to do a homa every
year on that night, had passed away just a few days before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since nobody else had stepped forward to
continue this tradition, I consulted with Rampriya and we agreed to do a simple
homa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no book with mantras and no
ritual utensils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Haradhan brought ghee, ganja
instead of samugri, and he found some wood in the cremation ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had asked a village lady for uncooked rice for
offering to the fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, she
handed me a pot with cooked rice and a small spoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
cremation ground was quiet though, there were hundreds of people up during the
night on the Mela grounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sat facing
a small temple whose doors had been shut for the night and repeated the Shiva
mantra while pouring ghee and spooning cooked rice into the fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once the fire had died down, glowing embers
appeared like the three eyes of Ma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Haradhan, bow down,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ma
has come.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Haradhan made his pranams,
I shouted, “Baul jago! Baul arise!”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At
that instant, a tremendous gust of wind rattled the temple doors, tossed
branches from trees and whirled around our heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The three of us got quite startled,
considering this happened late at night in a cremation ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I should have thought of Lord Hanuman,
who is the God of Wind, he was not on my mind at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our fear of the wind turned into joy as soon
as the first large drops of rain fell on us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The sky showered blessings on the homa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In fact, we got drenched by sheets of rain as we made a run for the next
tent in the Mela grounds.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
had made plans with my friend Debra to travel to New Mexico in 2020 where I
hoped to perform a homa at Chaco Canyon for the welfare of native American
Indian nations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stars were in an
auspicious alignment at Summer Solstice, and I thought it would be a good time
for intense prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, Covid
happened, and we had to cancel our trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I performed the homa on Solstice at Kali Mandir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t quite as dramatic as it might have
been at Chaco Canyon, but, nevertheless, it was intense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the bottom of my heart I prayed for the
Ancients to rise and do good for native American peoples.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Were
my homa fires effective?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did the ancient
gods hear my prayers? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">They say that even a butterfly flapping its wings has an effect. </span>The mathematician Edward Lorenz came
up with the term “Butterfly Effect,” a metaphor meant to demonstrate
that small events can lead to significant results over time.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In
Mexico there is now a new temple to Lord Hanuman and one to the goddess
Coatlicue at Jamadi outside of Queretaro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkUYNmsgtGAs3wVxOs2J39dh9cUfMncDTk16G5iXU6nQuefhzDriC6vGy2GL4aLEHUATM9FFyQK0CGIu73-zIj8ao9KhDp4okly8v87Y94PLyiUWWI_CFzfTXnhoGJsaOrnA5xU9WUQ4xooIoFGiWH8-iwm99hvNwusq2Je77WX0YoZE0gdbiMfRQ/s2048/Hamadi3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkUYNmsgtGAs3wVxOs2J39dh9cUfMncDTk16G5iXU6nQuefhzDriC6vGy2GL4aLEHUATM9FFyQK0CGIu73-zIj8ao9KhDp4okly8v87Y94PLyiUWWI_CFzfTXnhoGJsaOrnA5xU9WUQ4xooIoFGiWH8-iwm99hvNwusq2Je77WX0YoZE0gdbiMfRQ/w640-h480/Hamadi3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naren worshipping Hanuman at Jamadi, Mexico<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9exyrNVHU_rRkGk6gIUQgLZwStQ4596vYlz9EN2WKaFBMxi38RAKaKEWPOLqNVDq-x_7NPR_BE9pCP6viPBZdcQq5nSqVVLpUJpmnrrukdQiiaHAIGA_I95M_wp39gcuub35h-JmKDWUtiRb_UJ5qjtyjE_5oUSX1zOWVotqvLVtPDo6F3svWxk6z/s1920/Hanuman%20Puja.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9exyrNVHU_rRkGk6gIUQgLZwStQ4596vYlz9EN2WKaFBMxi38RAKaKEWPOLqNVDq-x_7NPR_BE9pCP6viPBZdcQq5nSqVVLpUJpmnrrukdQiiaHAIGA_I95M_wp39gcuub35h-JmKDWUtiRb_UJ5qjtyjE_5oUSX1zOWVotqvLVtPDo6F3svWxk6z/w400-h225/Hanuman%20Puja.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlicBqRZaOwOWfO9VZ5-5G3NwFnQJpLU5kqDBgAFsod-0ewo99EOWQ7H-lTDxzhgpkadn5P0EkYfqaewigLPZqMy1GJ_D9tkjLq0WEdMkEghQqYz-MSw5VX5Bp5vP91of7T9pZfAkzfUZRHXWJAF35mc1eBr8gGUI5p7N5nnOmMYtDkYvQAKWSKgHG/s958/PHOTO-2019-11-29-14-36-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="958" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlicBqRZaOwOWfO9VZ5-5G3NwFnQJpLU5kqDBgAFsod-0ewo99EOWQ7H-lTDxzhgpkadn5P0EkYfqaewigLPZqMy1GJ_D9tkjLq0WEdMkEghQqYz-MSw5VX5Bp5vP91of7T9pZfAkzfUZRHXWJAF35mc1eBr8gGUI5p7N5nnOmMYtDkYvQAKWSKgHG/s320/PHOTO-2019-11-29-14-36-25.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pablo, Marisela, Lopa and Naren<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKd7OMaHNdyaigePrUpCRpj7CjBP_qqGNJCYFnmlGHLUJKwyNsNEYCHScpJbaqgPuuVBrk9tXuEcJbAxUNfrv7em_ev2UWpGnRYKeqTCTVCYk0D87DLY2Y69o-s-4_nLNGzuAiA1B0FHxJNCXq--KVHRDvBgEVH1S5VFbT1uMTy9LcaM51akypZl5/s1638/Hammadi2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1638" data-original-width="1228" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKd7OMaHNdyaigePrUpCRpj7CjBP_qqGNJCYFnmlGHLUJKwyNsNEYCHScpJbaqgPuuVBrk9tXuEcJbAxUNfrv7em_ev2UWpGnRYKeqTCTVCYk0D87DLY2Y69o-s-4_nLNGzuAiA1B0FHxJNCXq--KVHRDvBgEVH1S5VFbT1uMTy9LcaM51akypZl5/w300-h400/Hammadi2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new Cuatlicue temple at Jamadi</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50TqacODBVgxhOAuyFGv-PZjylXqfUcSnpY16-H0Dk887H3Eh-3SZDW4XGIngx4FELv__RQhMTgLvTpTRMJua0d97_KiIhqzOm-OWyuutCb1qya2Quxrilz7ng6nCXpVPeV7BA_Sl5oYLIPyR4ZbVmFsTrA4bsruEkC01ToUC6bph-WYjqEr628pY/s4000/IMG_5850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2664" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50TqacODBVgxhOAuyFGv-PZjylXqfUcSnpY16-H0Dk887H3Eh-3SZDW4XGIngx4FELv__RQhMTgLvTpTRMJua0d97_KiIhqzOm-OWyuutCb1qya2Quxrilz7ng6nCXpVPeV7BA_Sl5oYLIPyR4ZbVmFsTrA4bsruEkC01ToUC6bph-WYjqEr628pY/w640-h426/IMG_5850.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaNPKpIfxz6pww8imxs6OjYoXrPBUuS2SoYUwAjBvRRcBo2-CXMjD8fbbeVfE-oVmxK4wLMiuLZABqNHD8jVC3TTWknDvAVD63jFM1koaerSGTHaFfG8nJd8gfpPcJdViA74AmjyA1UBLxyD1FXed0ugmv-5rtRa0GM8QbUJUiT74rgxb3-2xQwvb/s4000/IMG_5865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2664" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaNPKpIfxz6pww8imxs6OjYoXrPBUuS2SoYUwAjBvRRcBo2-CXMjD8fbbeVfE-oVmxK4wLMiuLZABqNHD8jVC3TTWknDvAVD63jFM1koaerSGTHaFfG8nJd8gfpPcJdViA74AmjyA1UBLxyD1FXed0ugmv-5rtRa0GM8QbUJUiT74rgxb3-2xQwvb/w640-h426/IMG_5865.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSShPCHGiM71WhdyxqKd-jdlrBm5JNviBiiQaWBLwZr8FEkG-QCPYQfv3fnDy9j6JqbsfRQFx6FhlELR9dtGc-3Fg8NIQ6ktg4lC0m6V1j_JbsyRpjOcD5n3hx3NWr2JOfXqW9rGJLH91vzUqS63wHsuAnuBn1oUoE6hY7qSkqye1yzoGhZCKU8B2/s1024/9648d08f-73be-4df6-a696-3aee09597ae9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSShPCHGiM71WhdyxqKd-jdlrBm5JNviBiiQaWBLwZr8FEkG-QCPYQfv3fnDy9j6JqbsfRQFx6FhlELR9dtGc-3Fg8NIQ6ktg4lC0m6V1j_JbsyRpjOcD5n3hx3NWr2JOfXqW9rGJLH91vzUqS63wHsuAnuBn1oUoE6hY7qSkqye1yzoGhZCKU8B2/s320/9648d08f-73be-4df6-a696-3aee09597ae9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pablo and Marisela, proprietors of Jamadi<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I like to think that, in some remote way, my prayers had helped with their
establishment. The large statue of
Hanuman was created by a Mexican artist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The temples are run by Mexicans, and the devotees who worship and chant
are Mexicans with occasional guests visiting from other countries.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Hanuman
is no stranger to Mexico. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to
Hindu mythology, he went through a tunnel in search of Sita, Lord Rama’s wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hanuman went straight through the Earth and
came out on the other side, which some Hindus believe is somewhere in Mexico or
Guatemala.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This explains why Hindus have
visited the Mayan ruins of Copan, located deep in the jungles of Honduras near
the Guatemalan border.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A monkey deity
that looks somewhat like Hanuman stares at you at the entrance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIOqwrQim4EeiTUhDmjprAjpfhWt6AOTZTdmdkL8xVwrb6mNe8ZMgv69pZG3E9X7eWVQuRehKeQ_plg7A0-frRX4ZEQY96Hxy8JWNNKkS8_cJLgmKkDNiZ4MN2l2vPqJ2-Ia5HbYbrB9MSluGhW3akbDX_5waSOSQ-yjw8RT8XSnYgVrk3Nj1qOC0h/s500/pks60ifvlvy51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="374" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIOqwrQim4EeiTUhDmjprAjpfhWt6AOTZTdmdkL8xVwrb6mNe8ZMgv69pZG3E9X7eWVQuRehKeQ_plg7A0-frRX4ZEQY96Hxy8JWNNKkS8_cJLgmKkDNiZ4MN2l2vPqJ2-Ia5HbYbrB9MSluGhW3akbDX_5waSOSQ-yjw8RT8XSnYgVrk3Nj1qOC0h/w478-h640/pks60ifvlvy51.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monkey Deity at the Mayan ruins of Copan, Honduras<br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p>
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</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Most
visitors to these parts of the jungle are explorers, adventurers and
archeologists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are looking for the
fabled “Lost City of the Monkey God” where it is rumored that a giant statue of
a monkey is buried amid gold and treasures. They’ve been looking for this city
since the time of the Spanish conquistadors, but to this day, this city has never
been found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
picture of Hanuman we worshipped at Kailuum in 2005 had come along with me
during all my travels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was always one
of the holy pictures I carried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We often
take something for granted and don’t appreciate it enough until it’s gone. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Debra
and I recently went back to Quintana Roo in 2022 and stayed for a week at a charming
bungalow close to the beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the
morning before our return to the U.S., I was lying in bed, listening to the song
of myriad tropical birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, a
thought that felt more like a command hit me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I should get up and hand over the picture of Hanuman to the gardener who
worked at the eco-hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This picture
had been with me for a long time, and I thought I was okay with letting it go.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
sun had just come up over the ocean as I reached the beach and saw the gardener
raking seaweed off the white sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
walked over to him and, since I don’t speak Spanish, I just pulled Hanuman’s
picture halfway out of the red silk bag and showed it to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pointing at the picture, I said:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is the monkey god.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gardener looked at me, and then looked at
the picture. Without a word, he took Hanuman’s picture, put it back into the
silk bag and walked off with it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
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{page:WordSection</style><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxcMjDMT7plTFnqzG3FAYp0NMC3MmX97PY0ESd2CYYgLbUYPmHsA1rRQ5FmhqI0LnPHEy7Nl7Nc2IoJGCI_RNoqpb1USd0Sq-RclF41tfpUxMHyL6nC3l3g2TC50RFAvm3y3AgFJm0QNGAnt-_YewAQ7MFHhs6KNVfAwqzGQb2kUIo_Sjn4bluPnR4/s640/IMG_1454.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxcMjDMT7plTFnqzG3FAYp0NMC3MmX97PY0ESd2CYYgLbUYPmHsA1rRQ5FmhqI0LnPHEy7Nl7Nc2IoJGCI_RNoqpb1USd0Sq-RclF41tfpUxMHyL6nC3l3g2TC50RFAvm3y3AgFJm0QNGAnt-_YewAQ7MFHhs6KNVfAwqzGQb2kUIo_Sjn4bluPnR4/s320/IMG_1454.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gardener<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><style>@font-face
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</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
was shocked that this transaction happened so fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The picture of Hanuman I had traveled with was
gone at an instant. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to hold back
my tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How did I not know that I was
so intimately attached to this picture?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
could have asked the gardener to give the picture back, but in my heart I knew
that I was supposed to let it go.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Back
in the U.S., dwelling on this incident, I suddenly realized that Hanuman
Jayanti had just passed when we were in Mexico. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized that from our first homa in 2005
which burned for 17 hours – almost to the day – Hanuman’s picture had been with
me for 17 years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hanuman came to me on the
sands of Quintana Roo, and he left me on the sands of Quintana Roo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now
that this picture of him is physically gone, I’ll just have to see Hanuman in
my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The essence of God can only be
understood by the heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The brain just
fills in the glamorous details.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyBaYnEuVydhPHtZvI2ICJmIgCRA6aNmLhgqmCAn5r7-9KNd6s1pvmWj9353A_TjG5R838RRzwzEOyQc841_l_INXI2ZjKsMW3KsgY2K7kz0uGh_Mnc5GZOtxwu4QT9FkfIPm2J9thO-q7y-Ry3aIrAOpstCJF41M4dWESRxCOqNPDcYrUoYeIZiJ/s650/aus_37_00_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="650" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyBaYnEuVydhPHtZvI2ICJmIgCRA6aNmLhgqmCAn5r7-9KNd6s1pvmWj9353A_TjG5R838RRzwzEOyQc841_l_INXI2ZjKsMW3KsgY2K7kz0uGh_Mnc5GZOtxwu4QT9FkfIPm2J9thO-q7y-Ry3aIrAOpstCJF41M4dWESRxCOqNPDcYrUoYeIZiJ/w200-h168/aus_37_00_2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSecti</style><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
finished this article last night and realized it’s Summer Solstice today: June 21, 2022.</span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> Dedicated to
Lord Hanuman and Mexico.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> Jai Hanuman!<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><br />Elizabeth Usha Hardinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00089850526408986284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-8758224428322492092022-03-10T17:06:00.003-08:002022-03-10T18:28:31.576-08:00A Tribute to a Great Soul: Professor Dipak Gupta<p><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><br /></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">A Tribute to a Great Soul:</span></span></span></p><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span></span><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor Dipak Gupta</span></span></span></p>
<p><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><p><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor
Dipak Gupta, a great grandson of Sri Mahendranath Gupta (M.), left his body on
January 31, 2022 on Ratanti Kali Puja night and Mauni Amavasya.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span> <br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgk0NiRBndeQM9WEMER6nlUNhdEthcu9L1B7eewhM4IylTw91eaiqfRHuJ-kypShnP1_2lBIZRo4cwJD9YhAZPHXKwD4V6wCl-FwOMvHVQ9aJrMGoMX6xZwMrjHNO1MGekjV7JgAtZ36SmxQd2NynzoOoPAzjbN4DZPFqhkDnVdk0VfGG4szQj5GXjc=s759" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="759" data-original-width="522" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgk0NiRBndeQM9WEMER6nlUNhdEthcu9L1B7eewhM4IylTw91eaiqfRHuJ-kypShnP1_2lBIZRo4cwJD9YhAZPHXKwD4V6wCl-FwOMvHVQ9aJrMGoMX6xZwMrjHNO1MGekjV7JgAtZ36SmxQd2NynzoOoPAzjbN4DZPFqhkDnVdk0VfGG4szQj5GXjc=w247-h359" width="247" /></a></div><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">During
his lifetime, Professor Gupta lived in the house in North Kolkata where M. wrote his
famous <i>Sri Sri Ramakrishna Kathamrita</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The history of this house, named Kathamrita Bhavan, is
unparalleled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holy Mother frequently
lived here with M.’s family and sometimes stayed for months at a time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During one visit, Sri Ramakrishna appeared to
her in a dream and asked her to worship Ma Durga in M.’s shrine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In response, Holy Mother installed an
original photo of Sri Ramakrishna on the altar and, invoking the goddess Durga,
she established the mangal ghat there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is said that shortly after this event M. started writing the <i>Kathamrita</i>. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinD9OuiH_x468z04_ScuBkJw3ILyVpKBmKa8yd-1JyUtsAXRbxq4FvQXAYLS7FkyhqDhrI0UxZ1QlZ5em1BSFXLIlWYetvn8JY1mSi1VX_JcXFm19ZJmhJp0b_e2fwV_S9CxbthEFEvz--T0y0wZ1jY-dPVEXGN8hGMwL4p9n_gyCKUzUH22OZ_ut6=s1671" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1671" data-original-width="1147" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinD9OuiH_x468z04_ScuBkJw3ILyVpKBmKa8yd-1JyUtsAXRbxq4FvQXAYLS7FkyhqDhrI0UxZ1QlZ5em1BSFXLIlWYetvn8JY1mSi1VX_JcXFm19ZJmhJp0b_e2fwV_S9CxbthEFEvz--T0y0wZ1jY-dPVEXGN8hGMwL4p9n_gyCKUzUH22OZ_ut6=s320" width="220" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">I first
visited Kathamrita Bhavan in the late 1980s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I still remember the warm welcome and one devotee showing me M.’s bedroom,
the roof and M.’s shrine room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During
these early days, I didn’t realize what a great privilege it was to have access
to such a holy place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was just happy and
felt like a family member who had come from abroad to visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">I met </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span>
Gupta, a quiet man who appeared stoic in an almost self-effacing way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His humble manner reminded me of the demeanor
of a nobleman who finds no need to display his status. Professor</span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> Gupta wore no religious markings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> He never married. </span>The only hint one got of his spiritual inclination were the orange shirts he often wore. His other brother Gautam
Gupta, who procured and managed the Shyampukur house where Sri Ramakrishna
stayed during his illness, also never married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh92wfxkRhcL11favLsMviuoWYfrbiaOMT67u4sUH-kfDGDL20Ood24eP3wsv5WVyz8qRhEf8f9gVy5luE_gGeXWmMBoNqv6wecTF19oS9oIG3T93B7INj_30520FhId53bmpCPAlwBu1fOVLWrHsXlbvbt3OT83N3ycH2VFCmlJoKb7yuny7OEaank=s3888" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="2592" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh92wfxkRhcL11favLsMviuoWYfrbiaOMT67u4sUH-kfDGDL20Ood24eP3wsv5WVyz8qRhEf8f9gVy5luE_gGeXWmMBoNqv6wecTF19oS9oIG3T93B7INj_30520FhId53bmpCPAlwBu1fOVLWrHsXlbvbt3OT83N3ycH2VFCmlJoKb7yuny7OEaank=s320" width="213" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span> Gupta was usually surrounded by householder devotees who performed various
types of work in the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were a
few ladies who had the keys to holy items in the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noticed how these ladies kept everything clean
and tidy and how lovingly they cared for the deities. I just basked in
their attention like a child and happily munched down the prasadi sweets they
offered.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiivHp7abiDmDjLkVy2_8aBQpcGuzd4gSdaVXpq7XzsEHXopg4ULIxve9m0VY8A92OwPjdKdu5Jv6-KOA8JVXglEH6UgCl9iV5LvLPgT0nJvO1E2xhFjL7uzdCzVeJqJVlmyd2cMthL5aPP8NY20GKsi6HmAvV-ETWoYTDns0f60LCNwMIHxXq8_je=s3888" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3888" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiivHp7abiDmDjLkVy2_8aBQpcGuzd4gSdaVXpq7XzsEHXopg4ULIxve9m0VY8A92OwPjdKdu5Jv6-KOA8JVXglEH6UgCl9iV5LvLPgT0nJvO1E2xhFjL7uzdCzVeJqJVlmyd2cMthL5aPP8NY20GKsi6HmAvV-ETWoYTDns0f60LCNwMIHxXq8_je=w447-h297" width="447" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">As I kept
making pilgrimages to the Kathamrita Bhavan over many years, I always noticed
that M.’s bedroom was meticulously preserved and looked as if <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>M. would have just gone out for a walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After years of visiting Kolkata, I had become
more humble and more aware of what great fortune had been bestowed on me to get
free access to such a holy place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
grateful and thanked </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gupta for
allowing me to walk inside M.’s bedroom and get a whiff of a truly divine
household.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In awe, I could look through
the glass of M.’s cabinet and stare at the kurta and moleskin shawl worn by Sri
Ramakrishna himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could observe </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">M.’s</span>
fountain pen and ink pot and picture him meditating and thoughtfully writing
down his notes. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAN3PR5g4VVP6ux3gWg1Cu7VfHMZ1PUFg5NOeOPJ5nTrw1Jq7yAEfcNadxNtBwdsqiS--hP3IWI9kfitMqUjfgkSGOYjr-rp-ltHSaVBZ010fAKNvoVBOdjxGBhl7vY67dDgxm9bB_kowhwVSjlJEGldeboANdAj9eSsnU1vJLjMQ1yTeaI6Cdy72v=s1633" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1633" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAN3PR5g4VVP6ux3gWg1Cu7VfHMZ1PUFg5NOeOPJ5nTrw1Jq7yAEfcNadxNtBwdsqiS--hP3IWI9kfitMqUjfgkSGOYjr-rp-ltHSaVBZ010fAKNvoVBOdjxGBhl7vY67dDgxm9bB_kowhwVSjlJEGldeboANdAj9eSsnU1vJLjMQ1yTeaI6Cdy72v=s320" width="235" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"></span></p><p> </p><p>Leading
up to the roof are steep steps that seem more like a ladder than steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the years I visited Kathamrita Bhavan, these
somewhat treacherous steps always looked new and freshly covered with green
paint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides M. and his family, Holy
Mother and many of Sri Ramakrishna’s direct disciples would climb up these
steps to the roof and to the shrine room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg1UaCJhQ7QhuMgDI4hRRop4GL3r7m9FYnenCzcHUO5ebIlY3-n8Dr-fT54ZXo5d4iMtD-JimoO9fQOnranNCVHIFLDXYU1bVTdGMGZX6M1HYPuwlhHDnwlX2DrhCreuqhqDrN9H8VZYNFNGKeEWYwkZk6focFAtJUU2nayDB4MfVkYhLjVBGvQT82i=s1700" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="1700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg1UaCJhQ7QhuMgDI4hRRop4GL3r7m9FYnenCzcHUO5ebIlY3-n8Dr-fT54ZXo5d4iMtD-JimoO9fQOnranNCVHIFLDXYU1bVTdGMGZX6M1HYPuwlhHDnwlX2DrhCreuqhqDrN9H8VZYNFNGKeEWYwkZk6focFAtJUU2nayDB4MfVkYhLjVBGvQT82i=w353-h240" width="353" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p>M. would sit next to the plumeria tree and talk to devotees in the evening. The tree still gives flowers after all these years.</p><p>Some of Sri Ramakrishna’s direct disciples would meditate here on the roof.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs9Mvo8cwGP6RLC6pIfv70KmG4l1PA3N4-ADsaf7YAo1j1x9SGxpolqMDsZG06xAiE_Fd_gwhBObCSJApDX2RKMtOUQqnswEiX4Bvw56VRkJ0SIpl8_oR_pj-8yq5doFJCfi2cuNOo8ZgWIRUJv2ri3AZyo4BFgHE9ajxJY3foDAaGO4P1nuoEnocn=s3888" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="2592" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs9Mvo8cwGP6RLC6pIfv70KmG4l1PA3N4-ADsaf7YAo1j1x9SGxpolqMDsZG06xAiE_Fd_gwhBObCSJApDX2RKMtOUQqnswEiX4Bvw56VRkJ0SIpl8_oR_pj-8yq5doFJCfi2cuNOo8ZgWIRUJv2ri3AZyo4BFgHE9ajxJY3foDAaGO4P1nuoEnocn=w267-h403" width="267" /></a></div><p></p><p>What grace to be allowed to enter the same shrine room where Holy Mother
worshipped and initiated devotees!</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Like a child </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">I would kneel in front of the altar and intently observe all the holy
items.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time stands still in this room
when one is allowed to stare through the glass of a large box containing various
relics and beautifully preserved slippers that Sri Ramakrishna wore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right in front of the altar is the mangal
ghat Holy Mother installed as well as a beautiful shalagram.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mangal ghat looks very much alive and has
its own personality, and the shalagram, too, has its own expression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I would have loved to stay in this
divine room for hours, I was always conscious that this would cause inconvenience
for the devotees working at the Bhavan.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUTuFbsB2UYAX8_EUvZKiMNARXeYoxz8POwLJUJHmdb1WZKsqWgfOfPSKNq7keC1SPtHJfxamvZ1QQK9Pckw0Nu3U7FGWMBxNcbsEvhJY5Z6GGine71RAPQ2t3TS3k7_Q7QREtGKkx57nYFniMsOsWzX-dV1fYS0VvDQBXDW7DPRc-vfVjLuivjSfg=s2560" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUTuFbsB2UYAX8_EUvZKiMNARXeYoxz8POwLJUJHmdb1WZKsqWgfOfPSKNq7keC1SPtHJfxamvZ1QQK9Pckw0Nu3U7FGWMBxNcbsEvhJY5Z6GGine71RAPQ2t3TS3k7_Q7QREtGKkx57nYFniMsOsWzX-dV1fYS0VvDQBXDW7DPRc-vfVjLuivjSfg=w664-h498" width="664" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLKfOxusM68HrwFSn9Be6CtcW3tqrdNUmcMBLdUEWm_i_GyQeD8rdLBxMxSnjwVfejtOzqZTpB7J7prcjVsDxU8sq3M3vB7Sm1g9PS20BGFJUUuS9LubEWmah3j6-q2aKasK7-dfDQoOwzcx0IwzRPTJOXLPzgCk4OPJSQzSgNZQ1qE7fdsLm_zuI8=s3888" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="2592" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLKfOxusM68HrwFSn9Be6CtcW3tqrdNUmcMBLdUEWm_i_GyQeD8rdLBxMxSnjwVfejtOzqZTpB7J7prcjVsDxU8sq3M3vB7Sm1g9PS20BGFJUUuS9LubEWmah3j6-q2aKasK7-dfDQoOwzcx0IwzRPTJOXLPzgCk4OPJSQzSgNZQ1qE7fdsLm_zuI8=s320" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> This is the mangal ghat that Holy Mother established in M's shrine. <br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEger9cO3G1AVr6meWhgQ2dOF5VTuW9D6gp0U_Onb9pYfoEt_ty225i2pTGI4u4V58D1CkzaYWH2KYUz972MW8UcQlJt1rjPzcoIot_DUT-IEn8Y7rqn7a9IiaP7kvmoSi-h1AiuCLL816uXGzXR9W2SNCpwj1Ew74oypvqDosu0hUJDVKW5orxYgZAB=s1765" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1765" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEger9cO3G1AVr6meWhgQ2dOF5VTuW9D6gp0U_Onb9pYfoEt_ty225i2pTGI4u4V58D1CkzaYWH2KYUz972MW8UcQlJt1rjPzcoIot_DUT-IEn8Y7rqn7a9IiaP7kvmoSi-h1AiuCLL816uXGzXR9W2SNCpwj1Ew74oypvqDosu0hUJDVKW5orxYgZAB=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> The shalagram sheela worshipped in M's shrine.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxBVEAwpHEwd789p29cPxgN_l2VvziDlEx0YD-oyo0xmSpsxFqeNg-kkTSKLkXiikVQMyy32wnwNydKZsJT82OKqeKGcIaM0ASjClFkeVff9Xm9eZ_n2_XIelQA1TSbHQ1Xmrp16zz1gPuBmniVbtypl1hwAoGBz-QjkIAu16-VC09O0LrXEusmxBH=s1427" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1427" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxBVEAwpHEwd789p29cPxgN_l2VvziDlEx0YD-oyo0xmSpsxFqeNg-kkTSKLkXiikVQMyy32wnwNydKZsJT82OKqeKGcIaM0ASjClFkeVff9Xm9eZ_n2_XIelQA1TSbHQ1Xmrp16zz1gPuBmniVbtypl1hwAoGBz-QjkIAu16-VC09O0LrXEusmxBH=s320" width="269" /></a></div><br /><p></p><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">I will
never forget the kindness of various lady devotees who joked with me and let me
sit under the plumeria tree where M. used to hold discourses with devotees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel indebted to </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span> Gupta for keeping
the sanctity and spirit of the Kathamrita Bhavan alive for all these
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He held the space that M. created
and kept the divine flame lit for all of us to get nourished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It certainly is not easy to keep up
the maintenance of such an old house and to make sure that the puja of the deities and
relics is properly performed properly on a daily basis. It takes a lot of
attention, love and care to keep the Divine inherent in the Bhavan’s holy items
and not let the presence slip into the past, turning the Bhavan into a museum.</span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"></span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnjx-VgcuETb8p-TdQHVwv5cwocujrY9jZbyk2fhLQbQAa6m6PBca_UTinV5lqV83gOYGQA-crnzfm7F-RuOOc7h7ocVWD1x3twHzcJpl-2M8Ff-0067SWerX0XqzrmtT5RmI3MJSoIAJsrtoICOZqdMIoH-ao3_GLHetZquAiykry1O5Tr47QvsFK=s1363" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="1103" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnjx-VgcuETb8p-TdQHVwv5cwocujrY9jZbyk2fhLQbQAa6m6PBca_UTinV5lqV83gOYGQA-crnzfm7F-RuOOc7h7ocVWD1x3twHzcJpl-2M8Ff-0067SWerX0XqzrmtT5RmI3MJSoIAJsrtoICOZqdMIoH-ao3_GLHetZquAiykry1O5Tr47QvsFK=s320" width="259" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span> Gupta used to teach at the nearby Vidyasagar College and gave classes and
lectures on the <i>Kathamrita </i>at various locations in Kolkata.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I</span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> once asked him why he thought that M
chose to write his reminiscences of Sri Ramakrishna in a non-consecutive
timeline. “The <i>Kathamrita </i>is not meant to be read as a sequential
life story,” said </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span> Gupta. “Each section should be read as a
meditation.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYs4fnO6NgMoYce1MhVgnuY8acjewTnZzil2e5hlub2O3xU0pvfcCM8W5pRCV3qaBQWSFYLJaEettcC3iAVRC90gJZwlkL0WojjLgr-pttUbfBqdfrMK51CNNrzycgz78900pnm7yFWvV21ln8mFtSGxuu0huXe7FpICK_LsnkhHWqdXQF0iFF9Ip2=s1887" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1887" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYs4fnO6NgMoYce1MhVgnuY8acjewTnZzil2e5hlub2O3xU0pvfcCM8W5pRCV3qaBQWSFYLJaEettcC3iAVRC90gJZwlkL0WojjLgr-pttUbfBqdfrMK51CNNrzycgz78900pnm7yFWvV21ln8mFtSGxuu0huXe7FpICK_LsnkhHWqdXQF0iFF9Ip2=s320" width="254" /></a></div><br /><p></p><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">He was kind
and supportive to all of us at Kali Mandir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will always be grateful for the access he gave me to take photographs
of the holy items in the house, and we are truly thankful for the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>blessings he bestowed on Swami Ambikananda for
his translation project of the <i>Sri Sri Ramakrishna</i> <i>Kathamrita</i>. </span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">May Sri
Ramakrishna bless </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor </span>Gupta for giving countless devotees over so many years
a chance to be in the presence of M. and get a glimpse of what it is like to be
touched by God.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzYU0BbOr73A06z-DPaxg8JOj1XqE9sZ9zzuUnKBknhxqkfMz0iUzQciCnSvRmO7wQs4gTgZ_3AupfvABxAKystSgLyWYsyqEYXSBrXS4WAL0-lyZxG82mnTXdSmnPHB7UkwShtBtx13EQFTO9VdIN6LT6rRtNAh3nFHaofHqkqigIWAE2VNoHh1wC=s2096" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2096" data-original-width="1500" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzYU0BbOr73A06z-DPaxg8JOj1XqE9sZ9zzuUnKBknhxqkfMz0iUzQciCnSvRmO7wQs4gTgZ_3AupfvABxAKystSgLyWYsyqEYXSBrXS4WAL0-lyZxG82mnTXdSmnPHB7UkwShtBtx13EQFTO9VdIN6LT6rRtNAh3nFHaofHqkqigIWAE2VNoHh1wC=w308-h430" width="308" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span> Gupta died during a very auspicious time: Ratanti Kali puja and Mauni Amavasya.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though his body was lying in state very
late at night at the Kathamrita Bhavan, many devotees heard the sad news
and thronged to pay their last respects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One by one, devotees walked up the narrow lane to the Bhavan, approached the cot and placed fragrant flower
garlands on </span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span> Gupta’s body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were so many flowers that loads had to be taken off before the pall bearers
could pick up the cot and take it to the funeral car waiting on the road outside the narrow
lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the body was loaded into the
car, the sounds of conch blowing and dhak drums could be heard from a nearby
temple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The final arati of Ratanti Kali
puja was going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> As soon as</span> the car started
rolling, the sounds stopped. Conches, dhaks and people fell silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">The famous Thanthania Kali in North Kolkata. Sri Ramakrishna visited this temple.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span> Gupta, you live on in the memory of those you have touched with your kindness. </span></span></span></span></p><span style="color: #cc0000;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgS7I2rjfAID8vOYV4l-rC8KykI9KQDB3cENtQUy-MTX627MRSrQNdenlO-vLmCIRFJXYSIy9a-BhFjuKBFg1VIIGT3tqs3FunHWIEgawj8VrkPbTdqUbRSLDl_ZLgO7k59QSh7krUileda5Yv4VaAxcmJ1deIWCtq856KU9ThwSiXfoh6fzvL9b-cY=s1716" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1089" data-original-width="1716" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgS7I2rjfAID8vOYV4l-rC8KykI9KQDB3cENtQUy-MTX627MRSrQNdenlO-vLmCIRFJXYSIy9a-BhFjuKBFg1VIIGT3tqs3FunHWIEgawj8VrkPbTdqUbRSLDl_ZLgO7k59QSh7krUileda5Yv4VaAxcmJ1deIWCtq856KU9ThwSiXfoh6fzvL9b-cY=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">(From L to R) Sadananda, Pranab Ghosal, Swami Bhajanananda on the roof with <span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;">Professor</span> Gupta<br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Caslon Pro",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbn0EKVSRW4jrmo3wKnpFss6cMYbAorWJnRuhSJo9-AAFFZUOnSqY1N3aTkV6Oa3gNrGpb_rlTMv4pXNyhOF6ARuDOOAMOu5bV9_eA9bqiwCgUiIdmpzxziRuCAqApuz764iZuxZp4vRKtP_HAbv3F1MzLXbVY8s-5EgnmX7KIOstDT_ps8rq--MvU=s1655" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1127" data-original-width="1655" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbn0EKVSRW4jrmo3wKnpFss6cMYbAorWJnRuhSJo9-AAFFZUOnSqY1N3aTkV6Oa3gNrGpb_rlTMv4pXNyhOF6ARuDOOAMOu5bV9_eA9bqiwCgUiIdmpzxziRuCAqApuz764iZuxZp4vRKtP_HAbv3F1MzLXbVY8s-5EgnmX7KIOstDT_ps8rq--MvU=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-left: 80px; text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Devotee ladies at Kathamrita Bhavan and Usha on the roof<br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Elizabeth Usha Hardinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00089850526408986284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-20378076092695933662017-03-21T17:25:00.002-07:002019-08-25T15:02:28.360-07:00Danger, Beauty & God-Intoxication: A Journey to Amarnath, Kashmir<div style="text-align: center;">
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</style><b><span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">असित</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">गिरि</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">समं</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">स्यात्</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">कज्जलम्</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">सिन्धु</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">पात्रे</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">सुरतरुवर</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">शाखा</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">लेखनी</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">पत्रम्</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">उर्वी</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">।</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">लिखति</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">यदि</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">गृहित्वा</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">शारदा</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">सर्वकालं</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">तदपि</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">तव</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">गुणानां</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">ईश</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">पारं</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">न</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">याति</span>
<span style="font-family: "nirmala ui" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Nirmala UI";">॥</span></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">asita-giri-samam syāt kajjalam
sindhu-pātre</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">sura-taruvara-shākhā lekhanī
patra-murvī,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">likhati yadi grhītvā shāradā
sarva-kālam</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">tadapi tava gunānām īsha pāram na
yāti.</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">O Lord, if the blue
mountain be ink, the ocean the ink pot, the branch of the Parijata tree be pen,
the earth the writing leaf, and by taking these if the Goddess of Learning
writes for eternity, even then, the limit of Your virtues will not be reached.
(Shiva Mahimna Stotram - Verse 32)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ94XydF7ZJGkhMc7UqT8C_Qxsxy4qSi7oGnTplYmDxP1-7KLcE_khppR9SfT6ybOecS0XBKmCIbM2jO3pNcLeUPiERXM_eWK9oYLRcq2HjoMF2pVG6B_OQRazwoZY03qcsW-Blimx3IA/s1600/Amarnath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ94XydF7ZJGkhMc7UqT8C_Qxsxy4qSi7oGnTplYmDxP1-7KLcE_khppR9SfT6ybOecS0XBKmCIbM2jO3pNcLeUPiERXM_eWK9oYLRcq2HjoMF2pVG6B_OQRazwoZY03qcsW-Blimx3IA/s400/Amarnath.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Danger,
Beauty & God-Intoxication</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">A Journey to
Amarnath</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">By Elizabeth Usha Harding</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
have lived with a picture of the Amarnath ice lingam on my wall for many years,
and though I am a seasoned traveler and have made it a point to visit all the
major places of pilgrimage in India, I never went to Kashmir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought a journey to Amarnath was beyond my
reach, at least in this lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
trek to the holy cave is strenuous and the political situation in Kashmir is mostly
unstable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Last April, my friend George called
to let me know that he and his artist-partner Claudia were going to Kashmir and
planned to visit Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I immediately
expressed my concern on the difficulty of this journey, reminding him of his health
problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’ll take a helicopter,”
said George and laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he
mentioned ‘helicopter’ a spark went off in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw a green signal as it were, a
possibility for me to visit the Lord at Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m coming with you,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was my chance of a lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Of course,” was George’s immediate
reply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George was familiar with Kashmir
having lived there for many years as a disciple and personal attendant to the
well-known Shaivacharya Swami Lakshmanjoo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Moreover, he had all the contacts necessary to enroll me in the 2016 Sri
Amarnath Yatra.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To me, Kashmir is the land of God,
the land of Shiva – the land of learning, philosophy, poetry, music and art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Vivekananda in one of his letters called
the Kashmir Valley “Paradise on Earth.” After reading Sister Nivedita’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Master as I Saw Him</i>, I had always
longed to visit Kashmir and Amarnath.</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLgGOfR81HanvGuO4iIi470PSft1D4ChvLRjLL8nCJkvwSXi1v-SCO4CH-1CohJUTiZXcHb-EVCR95UYuyzvS2OGfUimEMfbP3CPuwtowHC__AFpedD2sA8fpckqfvDBT4OR7o5Vsw60/s1600/nivedita.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLgGOfR81HanvGuO4iIi470PSft1D4ChvLRjLL8nCJkvwSXi1v-SCO4CH-1CohJUTiZXcHb-EVCR95UYuyzvS2OGfUimEMfbP3CPuwtowHC__AFpedD2sA8fpckqfvDBT4OR7o5Vsw60/s200/nivedita.jpg" width="147" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sister Nivedita</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Never had the Swami visited a
religious place with such spiritual exaltation,” wrote Sister Nivedita.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“To his European disciple he said afterwards,
‘The image was the Lord Himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
all worship there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never have been to
anything so beautiful, so inspiring!’ Later on, in the circle of his Gurubhais
and disciples, he said dreamily, ‘I can well imagine how this cave was first
discovered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A party of shepherds, one
summer day, must have lost their flocks and wandered in there in search of
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What must have been their feeling
as they found themselves unexpectedly before this ice image white like camphor,
with the vault itself dripping offerings of water over it for centuries.’” (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Life of Swami Vivekananda by His Eastern
and Western Disciples</i>, p.592)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There is some controversy about the
discovery of the holy cave of Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
say that this cave has been a Hindu destination of pilgrimage for thousands of
years being mentioned in the ancient Kashmiri Sanskrit text <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rajatarangini</i>, while others say that
this cave had been discovered not that many generations ago by a Muslim
shepherd named Malik.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3OTIS0QcZwZsmJpw-P0ds4VAvgsP0BGmLqQgMaKuth8w-S8ImHdjWxgwSdYdETSYZ-KSg3LtIVNA_a0O-QC5TCmM2rl3Dw2GAOOjfy_fY2lJda242KCxTfBdPRe-1Bet5L_oHpTMv0c/s1600/220px-Swami_Vivekananda_Kashmir_Houseboat_1898.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3OTIS0QcZwZsmJpw-P0ds4VAvgsP0BGmLqQgMaKuth8w-S8ImHdjWxgwSdYdETSYZ-KSg3LtIVNA_a0O-QC5TCmM2rl3Dw2GAOOjfy_fY2lJda242KCxTfBdPRe-1Bet5L_oHpTMv0c/s400/220px-Swami_Vivekananda_Kashmir_Houseboat_1898.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swami Vivekanananda and followers in Kashmir</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The valley of Kashmir, according to Hindu epics,
was a big lake in ancient times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kashyap
Rishi drained the water through a number of rivers and rivulets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon after, Bhrigu Rishi came on pilgrimage
to the Himalayas and was the first to have darshan of the holy cave of
Amarnath.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So many stories are attributed to
this cave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ma Parvati asked Lord Shiva
when and why he started wearing the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">munda
mala</i> (garland of skulls).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Whenever
you die, I add more heads to my mala,” replied Lord Shiva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please tell me the reason why I die again
and again but you are immortal,” asked Ma Parvati.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If you want to know the secret of
immortality, you will have to listen to the Amar Katha,” said Shiva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took Ma Parvati to a lonely place where no
living being could overhear him tell this ‘secret of secrets’ and ultimately
chose Amarnath Cave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shiva left Nandi at
Pahalgam and released the crescent moon he carries on his forehead at
Chandanwari.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the banks of Lake
Sheshnag, Shiva released the snakes, left his son Ganesha at Mahagunas Parvat,
and at Panchtarni, he left the life-giving Five Elements (earth, water, fire, air
and ether). After leaving all these behind, Lord Shiva entered the holy
Amarnath cave and revealed the secret of immortality to Ma Parvati.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nothing is perfect even in the world
of Gods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lord Shiva took so many precautions
to keep anyone other than Ma Parvati from hearing the secret of immortality,
yet by chance, a pair of white pigeons dwelling in the cave overheard the
secret and became immortal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To this day,
pilgrims visiting Amarnath often report having seen a pair of white pigeons in
the cave.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I booked my airline tickets for India
and planned to arrive in Srinagar on Saturday, July 16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George had already booked a helicopter to
take us to Amarnath on July 19 which happened to be Guru Purnima.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Envisioning the trip to Kashmir, my heart was
filled with anticipation. Beside George and Claudia, my dear friends John and
Denise Hughes and their daughter Shanna were also going to be in Srinagar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are all Swami Lakshmanjoo’s close
disciples who, after the master’s passing, founded the Kashmir Shaiva
Fellowship in Los Angeles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have dedicated
their lives to translating and publishing books of Swami Lakshmanjoo’s teachings
on Kashmir Shaivism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I happily accepted
when they invited me to stay at Swami Lakshmanjoo’s ashram in Srinagar.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Everything was perfect until the night before I
left Laguna Beach for India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friend
Sangeeta called me and told me that the Amarnath yatra was stopped, and Kashmir
was under curfew after violent protests in the wake of the killing of a militant
commander and his associates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything
was uncertain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would I be able to fly
into Srinagar, and would we be able to proceed to Amarnath?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I questioned whether to stay in the U.S. or proceed
with my India itinerary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m glad that the
call to Amarnath proved stronger than the hesitation in my brain. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After arriving at the Delhi airport, I was
waiting for my connecting flight to Srinagar when Shanna unexpectedly appeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a relief to be on the same flight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shanna is a strong woman who spent her
childhood in Srinagar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two policemen backed
off from stopping us exiting the Srinagar airport when Shanna replied to their
inquiries in fluent Kashmiri.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It was a bit like a high-speed race you see in
the movies as the taxi driver expertly maneuvered past rocks and razor-sharp
concertina wire on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All shops
on both sides of the road were closed, and the only people on the road were
military and men throwing rocks at them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Though it was an eerie scene, nothing could take away the beauty of
Srinagar with its majestic mountains and timeless, serene-looking Dal Lake. We
passed many soldiers, and curiously enough, one vendor pushing an ice-cream
cart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, just when we were about to
be stopped by soldiers, the driver turned into a small lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had arrived at Swami Lakshmanjoo’s ashram.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8pRDl9FJu1-lIUWt4sdQ0Kg617L7gfmtROSmlMGEZ_QkFgoniSET5YrdJtvy1pWnrWaAQqv0OMnTc8AMX59F6-OVEXLBKxbKuqjvsdVbyIsdEyQFDE_HfSV43In20W7zpm82e2VfC3Y/s1600/lakshmanjoo-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8pRDl9FJu1-lIUWt4sdQ0Kg617L7gfmtROSmlMGEZ_QkFgoniSET5YrdJtvy1pWnrWaAQqv0OMnTc8AMX59F6-OVEXLBKxbKuqjvsdVbyIsdEyQFDE_HfSV43In20W7zpm82e2VfC3Y/s400/lakshmanjoo-.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swami Lakshmanjoo in Srinagar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Swami Lakshmanjoo was a mystic master of the
ancient tradition of Kashmir Shaivism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was expert in bringing understanding to one’s limited knowledge and letting you
get a glimpse into the nature of God’s Divine Play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Swami Lakshmanjoo’s words “The cycles of
bondage and liberation are both one with Lord Shiva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is only a trick that we think that some
souls are bound in ignorance while others are elevated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is only Shiva’s play that we think that
this covering of diversity actually exists as a separate reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is not a second being or reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His trick, therefore, is our trick, because
we are Shiva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have concealed
ourselves in order to find ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is his play and also our play.” (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shaivacharya Swami Lakshmanjoo, A Short Life Sketch, published by
Ishwar Ashram Trust, New Delhi.</i>)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I love this teaching because it reminds me of
Swami Vivekananda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sri Ramakrishna
predicted that Naren would no longer hold on to his body when he remembered who
he really was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Swami Vivekananda
went to Amarnath and saw Lord Shiva in his full glory, he became transformed. He remembered. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Sister Nivedita writes, “And if Amarnath had
been an awesome religious experience to him, more so than Amarnath was the
Swami to his companion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So saturated had
his personality become </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">with the Presence of this God that for days thereafter
he could speak of nothing but Shiva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Shiva was all in all.” (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Life
of Swami Vivekananda by His Eastern and Western Disciples</i>, p.593)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Meeting with a Shaivite Master</span></span></h2>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I
should explain how I met Swami Lakshmanjoo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He came to Los Angeles to see his Western disciples in 1991, and one
Sunday morning in May, my mother who was visiting me from Vienna, Austria, and
I went to pay our respects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a
large house in the Wilshire area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were people standing about while others
were sitting quietly in a corner. Everybody seemed busy with themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Assuming that the Swami was going to give a
lecture, I asked one lady about the program.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“What program?” she asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We
don’t know what Swamiji will do in the next five minutes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I thought of Sri Ramakrishna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also did not follow a fixed program or
planned lectures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody could predict what
he would do next or when he would go into samadhi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Not knowing what else to do, I sat down
cross-legged in the large living room, and my mother sat down on the couch
behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Lakshmanjoo slowly
entered the living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Using a cane to
support himself, he walked to a couch on the other side of the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat down facing us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though he looked old and frail, he was
strikingly handsome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wore a brace
around his neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without moving or
saying a word, he sat on the couch looking at us for the longest time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just when I thought that he would never talk,
Swami Lakshmanjoo said something to a devotee sitting next to a harmonium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Promptly kirtan began, and sweet sounds of
devotion reverberated in the room.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Then something happened that I will never
forget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Lakshmanjoo began to look
animated, and suddenly, he tore off the neck brace with one swooping
motion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat for a while, and then abruptly,
he tossed his cane into a corner and got up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With arms upraised, Swami Lakshmanjoo started to dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keeping rhythm with the bhajan, he put full
weight on each foot as he danced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then
he stopped before a devotee that stood near him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Lakshmanjoo bent down and clapped his
hands in front of the man’s knees, and clapping again and again, he moved up
from the man’s knees to his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
turned and danced again with vigor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
by one, he stopped at people in the room clapping his hands from their knees to
their head. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
never seen anything like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the Swami
danced closer to where I was sitting, I was wondering if I, too, who was just
an observer, would get this treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
Swami Lakshmanjoo danced before me, I forgot to think, forgot who I was and
everything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes looked blue
and deep like the mountain lakes I had seen in the Austrian Alps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His face emanated ecstatic joy as tears flowed
down his cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I barely remember that
Swami Lakshmanjoo touched my hands prompting me to stand up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My body flew up from a seated position as if
it were a feather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched him clap
his hands in front of me, and when he moved to the next person, I sat back down
dumbfounded. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That day, I was rather
proud of my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though she had
been a devout Catholic all her life, she was open enough to appreciate Swami
Lakshmanjoo’s ecstatic behavior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2UWgYB1PMog_O73bDcL8IYWK81qdhaUoCnz-JK8w6AFrfwjfvHayRpmJOt5RViGTcnOz10GuXbfAUMg8y2gKDU8dGwr2BM7hO0H-1eMK4-i5CtjDs7fJRZyOo1wu6RfW9DskLvQtsWI/s1600/Swami+Lakshmanjoo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2UWgYB1PMog_O73bDcL8IYWK81qdhaUoCnz-JK8w6AFrfwjfvHayRpmJOt5RViGTcnOz10GuXbfAUMg8y2gKDU8dGwr2BM7hO0H-1eMK4-i5CtjDs7fJRZyOo1wu6RfW9DskLvQtsWI/s200/Swami+Lakshmanjoo2.jpg" width="141" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swami Lakshmanjoo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Swami Lakshmanjoo lost the ability to walk soon after
the day of the dance, and he left his mortal body a few months later in New
Delhi at the age of 84.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Years later, George told me that Swami
Lakshmanjoo’s ecstatic dance on that day was not a common occurrence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Lakshmanjoo revealed to his devotees that
he had had a vision of Goddess Durga which prompted his excitement. “How
fortunate is America that Durga is present in this country,” Swami Lakshmanjoo
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I am surprised. It’s not a
partial form of Durga.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw a full
installation of Durga including Lakshmi, Saraswati, Ganesha and Kartik.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Kashmir at a Boil</span></span></span></h2>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Many years passed since 1991 and my arrival in
Srinagar on July 16, 2016.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had seen
photographs and videos of Swami Lakshmanjoo at his ashram in Srinagar and often
thought that I’d like to visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I
was here but at a most inconvenient time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Though the ashram atmosphere was spiritual and peaceful, there was
turmoil outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people of Kashmir
were suffering: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>curfew – no traveling on
the streets, no phone connections, no internet connections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only limited food and medical supplies could
be obtained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ATMs were running out of
money, and garbage was piling up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The next day, on July 17, things looked
especially grim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Listening to an old,
battery-operated transistor radio, we got the news that thousands of pilgrims
on their way to Amarnath were stopped in Jammu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The road via Anantnag was too dangerous for travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many people had been killed due to unrest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to our itinerary, we would have to
leave for Pahalgam on this day to be in time to catch the helicopter for Panchtarni
early morning on July 19, Guru Purnima. To make things worse, George had
developed a very bad cough, and I was wondering whether he would be fit enough
to travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSGXMJczAvYizeamfC4ju9suK_fnrNjXbSP4IkUXxNbgSNLUaeoFmBBLVuiG-ngxYwbsiAju6Y8YxJ19kImc5N3ydUtANqWfhupO3Ln9BDlgrkbtFXfkojOIPWGgJSwBlgxLX7ql-qwM/s1600/DSC02373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSGXMJczAvYizeamfC4ju9suK_fnrNjXbSP4IkUXxNbgSNLUaeoFmBBLVuiG-ngxYwbsiAju6Y8YxJ19kImc5N3ydUtANqWfhupO3Ln9BDlgrkbtFXfkojOIPWGgJSwBlgxLX7ql-qwM/s320/DSC02373.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">When the ashram was quiet in the afternoon, I slipped
into Swami Lakshmanjoo’s temple in the ashram compound and sat before the Shiva
lingam that Swami Lakshmanjoo himself had worshiped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I have a request,” I said, hoping Swami Lakshmanjoo
could hear me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve come a long way and
waited so many years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please help me to
see Lord Shiva at Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please clear
the obstacles.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later, when I joined the
others drinking Kashmiri tea on the veranda, I saw that someone had left a photo
of Swami Lakshmanjoo on the couch leaning against a partially covered paper. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the portion of the paper I could see were
the words: “Request Granted.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I felt confident that everything was going to be
alright when we left Srinagar for Pahalgam around 10:30 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driving during the day was not possible because
of the curfew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the dark car, George’s
iPad dimly lit Claudia’s face as she searched for a file.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could hear Swami Lakshmanjoo chanting a
sloka when I started chanting the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hanuman
Chalisa, </i>asking Hanumanji for protection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I always do that before going on a trip.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The driver took us quickly through dark,
deserted streets until we reached the highway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were many cars and trucks taking advantage of the night, which
since the onset of the curfew had become the only safe time for driving. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhere along the route, George asked the
driver to stop before a brightly-lit mosque and turned to me asking, “Do you
have a hundred rupees?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We should make an
offering here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whenever Swamiji
travelled to Pahalgam or Jammu, he always stopped at this mosque and made an
offering.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">When we turned north onto Highway 501 leading to
Pahalgam, the streets were deserted, and we came across very few cars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We saw razor-sharp barbed wire, rocks on the
road, and periodically, we saw soldiers standing in groups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were stopped a few times, and soldiers
carrying rifles peeked into the car through the windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we told them that we are on a yatra to
Amarnath, they let us proceed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In August
2000 about 32 people including Amarnath pilgrims and police officers were
killed in Pahalgam during a terrorist attack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a consequence, we had to get out of the car at a checkpoint just
before reaching Pahalgam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our luggage
went through X-ray and everybody was searched for guns and other weapons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody seemed to mind being frisked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">We arrived at our hotel around 2:30 am, and though
I was very tired, I could not help but notice how charming and clean our room
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibU7GqfCUcBxy50LnKOhM2m9h7MCk4hW8JQ7OHDN3UpJy943XLsbIVFzrcfL6YrvNn2AS_91F-yShsBRwSJcxrkkEnRNupOZFZBYtJxfxBtSLQDgiUoGV-DlWUCc6N2s1xeQq21wCi9Gk/s1600/DSC02401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibU7GqfCUcBxy50LnKOhM2m9h7MCk4hW8JQ7OHDN3UpJy943XLsbIVFzrcfL6YrvNn2AS_91F-yShsBRwSJcxrkkEnRNupOZFZBYtJxfxBtSLQDgiUoGV-DlWUCc6N2s1xeQq21wCi9Gk/s320/DSC02401.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the morning when I stepped out of
the room and onto the veranda, I was greeted by crisp, fresh air and a
breathtaking view of high mountains covered with pine forests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Looking past the hotel’s meticulously-kept
green lawn and beautiful willow trees, I could see the Lidder river and hear
its roar as it rushed through the valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">At breakfast I noticed that we were the only
guests in the entire hotel. While the others moved about a bit, I spent most of
the day sitting on the veranda in front of our room and staring at a majestic mountain
in the distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span> Time passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listened to my head arguing with my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Om Namah Shivaya! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here I was in Pahalgam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Om Namah Shivaya!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brain said: “After all these years
avoiding Kashmir and its political conflicts, I had to come during a most
dangerous time.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Om Namah Shivaya!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart said, “This is the right time; this
is when I am supposed to be here.” Om Namah Shivaya!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Spiritual power often manifests strongly
during conflict.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Om Namah Shivaya!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bhagavad
Gita </i>was not spoken during a time of peace.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Om Namah Shivaya! Om Namah Shivaya! Om Namah
Shivaya! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched a helicopter flying
in the direction of the beautiful mountain I had been staring at and felt a
tremendous longing to see Lord Shiva at Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Pahalgam, at 7,000 feet, is the base camp for
the annual yatra to the Sri Amarnathji cave shrine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The yatra trek runs along the river to
Chandanwari, and from there, the trek becomes steep and is accessible only by
foot or pony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One has to climb to Pissu
Top and then trek to the mountain lake of Sheshnag which is close to 12,000
feet high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From Sheshnag one has to
climb a steep height across the 14,000-foot Mahagunas Pass and then descend to
the meadowland of Panchtarni.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the foot
of Bhairav Mount, there are five rivers that flow at Panchtarni.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many pilgrims bathe in these five rivers
before trekking the last four miles to the holy cave of Amarnath which is situated
at 13,000 feet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Altogether the trek from
Pahalgam to Amarnath is 31 miles long and takes most pilgrims three days to complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a shorter route via Sonamarg and Baltal,
Domail and Barari Marg which is only 9 miles long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, few pilgrims are fit enough to trek this
route because it is extremely steep and dangerous.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Swami Vivekananda tried to get to Amarnath via Sonamarg
but had to turn back due to bad weather and landslides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This turned out to be fortunate for Sister
Nivedita because Swami Vivekananda let her join him on the pilgrimage to
Amarnath via the Pahalgam/Chandanwari route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIGjuxdDHcHjOaxkFWEvtRP5hhapdjilXO03a3GSh0xUCsREG-1N5bAsZu9CHZ9DzSv2evKL0AaRX3WccWcRsOfNqs8WobpcFYj5NaBan5IHC6_v8I7iCF1VnMz8AoUZQfTCzehXsd3w/s1600/f8efa24226c65e568c706cf6a2fdd69f.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIGjuxdDHcHjOaxkFWEvtRP5hhapdjilXO03a3GSh0xUCsREG-1N5bAsZu9CHZ9DzSv2evKL0AaRX3WccWcRsOfNqs8WobpcFYj5NaBan5IHC6_v8I7iCF1VnMz8AoUZQfTCzehXsd3w/s400/f8efa24226c65e568c706cf6a2fdd69f.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josephine McCloud, Mrs.Bull, Swami Vivekananda & Sister Nivedita in Kashmir</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sister Nivedita wrote in her memoirs: “Through
scenes of indescribable beauty, three thousand of us ascended the valleys that
opened before us as we went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first
day we camped in a pine wood; the next, we had passed the snow line and pitched
our tents beside a frozen river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
night, the great camp fire was made of juniper, and the next evening, at still
greater heights, the servants had to wander many miles in search of this scanty
fuel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At last, the regular pathway came
to an end, and we had to scramble up and down along goat paths on the face of
steep declivities till we reached the boulder-strewn gorge in which the Cave of
Amarnath is situated.”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> (The Master As I
Saw Him </i>p.91)</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lord Shiva at Amarnath</span></b></span></span></h2>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">At my age, I could not have undertaken the three-day
trek, and my only option to see the Lord at Amarnath was to take a
helicopter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got to the helicopter pad
early on the morning of Guru Purnima.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
few people were ahead of us, and we watched as they boarded a helicopter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Six people besides the pilot can be seated in
the helicopter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it became our turn,
we had to split up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George and I boarded
the first helicopter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought the
helicopter ride would be scary, but on the contrary, it was exhilarating and
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked down at the pine
trees and then watched as we flew past glaciers of eternal ice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw the beautiful, translucent blue
Sheshnag Lake sparkling like a rare jewel faceted between snow-peaked
mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon after, we landed at the
helipad at Panchtarni. </span><br />
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qCmZhSPLrD7xF0nT8ChT11vAvCJrB7mxTt7TLmRp529Dq03BYmzNVmuNkib7aJOXyRqJ7AJCHwZis2YxjeGEZ4BRTwZVkQYfwptHPdCoVtWN3gg79sh-FtUHYnzhezrYOHIbxILzx9s/s1600/132501369.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qCmZhSPLrD7xF0nT8ChT11vAvCJrB7mxTt7TLmRp529Dq03BYmzNVmuNkib7aJOXyRqJ7AJCHwZis2YxjeGEZ4BRTwZVkQYfwptHPdCoVtWN3gg79sh-FtUHYnzhezrYOHIbxILzx9s/s400/132501369.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheshnag Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">George decided to wait at the helipad for the
others to arrive in the next helicopter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I have to go,” I said to George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Lord Shiva is calling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll see
you all at the cave.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Somehow, deep in my heart, I always knew that I
had to make this journey alone – at least the last leg of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I passed the security area around the helipad
and started to walk along a muddy path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
had rained a lot over the past few days, and the mud was deep and stuck to my
shoes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Soon I was surrounded by many men who all
offered their services to take me to Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I looked around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the way up
one mountain were men waiting with their horses for pilgrim customers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Palki wallahs were sitting around waiting to
be hired by pilgrims who never came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These men are all Muslims who depend on Hindu pilgrims to hire
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Money earned during the Amarnath
yatra season helps them to get by during the harsh winter. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">One old man agreed to take me to the cave for Rs
1,200 - a fair price according to the Amarnath Yatra Shrine Board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He whistled and motioned up the mountain
until a young boy brought a white horse to where we were standing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was glad to see that the horse was not too
tall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as I was contemplating how I
should approach getting up on the horse, I was expertly hoisted up into the
saddle by the old man and the young boy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Auntie,” said the boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Give me your bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll carry it for you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was grateful. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This way I could hold on to the saddle with
both hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With steady gait, the boy
began to walk up the muddy path, expertly leading the horse past rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">There were only a few people on the path to
Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw one sadhu clad in gerua
walking barefoot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had one bad leg and
was limping, but that did not stop him from briskly walking on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once in a while pilgrims returning from the
holy cave greeted me with a hearty “Jai Bole!” or “Har Har Mahadev!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw three middle-aged Indian ladies dressed
in kurtas panting for breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did
not stop walking, and with each step, they said, “Jai Shiva!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw smiling faces, and I saw exhausted
faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At almost every turn of the path,
I saw soldiers sitting or standing, keeping watch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The path was steep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking down, I saw a river with milky blue
water flowing about 1,000 feet below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The boy was leading the horse with great confidence, and I wasn’t
worried that the horse may slip even when we passed a difficult rocky
terrain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thankful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This boy and this horse were taking me to
Lord Shiva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In retrospect, I wish I
could remember this Muslim boy’s name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He became very dear to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">When we reached Sangam, a Jammu & Kashmir
police officer stopped us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You have to
get off the horse here and walk the rest of the way,” he said to me in perfect
English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was still a walk of almost
two miles to the cave - mostly over ice and slippery terrain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked the officer to please let me continue
riding the horse a bit further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
officer was adamant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, everybody has
to get off their horses here,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly,
seemingly out of nowhere, a man appeared in army fatigues and started arguing
with the police officer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She is a
special guest of the Indian army,” he told the police officer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They argued for quite a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">At last, the police officer gave me
permission to continue, and the boy, the horse and I resumed our journey toward
Amarnath.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Walking slowly over snow-covered mud and ice, the
horse carefully avoided holes in the ice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some holes were so big that you could see a river flowing underneath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> We passed a big rock next to the river, and I
was wondering whether this was the place where Swami Vivekananda bathed before
entering the holy cave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon after, multi-colored
tents that pilgrims can rent as well as army and police tents lined the path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one tent, we were stopped again, and a man
said something in Hindi about a ‘mobile and camera’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, I didn’t understand him and kept my
mobile and camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> We arrived at the steps leading to the holy cave.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The boy helped me get off the horse and said,
“Auntie, I’ll wait here for you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
started walking up a few steps and soon became aware of the high altitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stopped, caught my breath and walked up
another few steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was glad to see
that I was not the only one who had to rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even younger people than me had to stop for a while. About half way up,
there was a tent where pilgrims left their shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The steps didn’t feel cold at all as I
continued barefoot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last long flight
of steps seemed the hardest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were
pilgrims holding on to the railing while others sat on the steps to catch their
breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cave was near, and though I
was out of breath, I pushed on, driven by longing and adrenaline. </span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As soon as I reached the level walkway inside
the holy cave, I felt completely overwhelmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The combination of exhaustion, high altitude, shortness of breath and
intense emotion as I was imbibing the sheer power of the place made me
stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were only a few more steps
up to the ice lingam, but I had to sit down. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It couldn’t have been more intense if I had
walked straight into Lord Shiva’s arms. Tears were rolling down from the
corners of my eyes as I sat by myself on a green wooden bench in the cave. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A policeman walked by, looking at me as I sat
there helplessly overcome with feeling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I don’t remember how long I sat there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, I composed myself and took out the
bag with cashews and raisins I had brought from America as an offering for Lord
Shiva. There remained only a few steps up through a brass gate, and I was
before the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ice lingam had
melted quite a bit and only one-third still remained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It did not matter to me that the ice lingam
was not high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart was so full.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think if the divine vibration in the cave
would have been any stronger, I would have fainted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I handed the bag of cashews and raisins to
one tall, young priest for offering.</span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwJZuVleBvGh3t3pv9_o2Iq_qXktD_L7F2oULeH8-6eRh-inySsAKxC7bNjdbAcVAYwCnwDQLzSbXFSPri7pN1_d07WOhwpVSDubiYzWcQ0S0sfdZ29etUGMYHQcTtFA55ikxa9YFGsWE/s1600/DSC02462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwJZuVleBvGh3t3pv9_o2Iq_qXktD_L7F2oULeH8-6eRh-inySsAKxC7bNjdbAcVAYwCnwDQLzSbXFSPri7pN1_d07WOhwpVSDubiYzWcQ0S0sfdZ29etUGMYHQcTtFA55ikxa9YFGsWE/s400/DSC02462.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entrance into the holy cave of Amarnath</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">For a moment I thought that the priest might not
give me enough prasadam to bring back to all the devotees in the U.S. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached past a few people to get the
attention of the priest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I failed
to get his attention, I took out my mobile and showed the priest a photo of our
Sri Ma Dakshineswari Kali of Laguna Beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All of a sudden, there was a huge commotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everybody wanted to see Ma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I held my mobile high so that all the people
could see Ma and suddenly realized that I was holding it up to show Lord Shiva
in the ice lingam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, I got
overwhelmed and had to go back down the steps and sit on the bench to compose
myself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The priest came down the steps to hand me the
prasadam that I had forgotten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another
priest came and filled my arms with more prasadam and put holy bhasma on my
forehead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The policeman came and put
wooden shoes on my feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You must be
cold,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An old man carrying a small
bucket used a ladle to pour maha-prasadam – hot payesh with lots of saffron - into
a paper cup and handed it to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much
love, so much kindness.</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43aJklFdg0OD1Zz-uwtiwimEwHArJ9PLnDixZKxjTMuHcvz1ILvVGqMhwrRw8A82kyUu1W-_ecoNH_UydVKDjT2FED1jDXl4ptrgHV_0MNDsPYe6JhWfJmqdt5s_W6hG6qOgOrVlD6yo/s1600/portrait+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43aJklFdg0OD1Zz-uwtiwimEwHArJ9PLnDixZKxjTMuHcvz1ILvVGqMhwrRw8A82kyUu1W-_ecoNH_UydVKDjT2FED1jDXl4ptrgHV_0MNDsPYe6JhWfJmqdt5s_W6hG6qOgOrVlD6yo/s200/portrait+3.jpg" width="140" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swami Gambhiranandaji</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Amarnath Cave is very high and wide but not
as deep as I had imagined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some pigeons were
flying high in the cave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was still
sitting on the bench and felt a bit self-conscious for having shown so much
emotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I remembered that even Swami
Gambhirananda, the 11th President of the Ramakrishna Order, became emotional
when he visited Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>President
Maharaj, Swami Atmasthananda, had once told me that Swami Gambhirananda, who
was usually very reticent talking about his spiritual experiences, said that he
saw Thakur Ramakrishna seated in the ice lingam. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">When my friends arrived in the holy cave, they also
got wooden shoes to wear as they walked up the steps to the shrine of the ice
lingam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wooden shoes are the only
footwear allowed in the cave, and the priests, police and staff who have to
stand on the cold ground for a long time wear these shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">There are three ice lingams in the cave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The large ice lingam is worshiped as Lord
Shiva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ice lingam next to Lord Shiva
is worshiped as Ma Parvati and next to Ma is Ganesha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The area is protected by a grill, most
probably to prevent devotees tossing items at the lingams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I noticed that George did not look well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked intently at the ice lingam, and
then he and Claudia chanted the aghora mantra for quite some time.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aghorebhyo
‘tha ghorebhyo ghoraghorataribhyasca</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sarvatah sarva!
Sarvebhyo namaste rudrarupebhyah”</span></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Swami Lakshmanjoo gave two meanings of this
mantra. “I bow to all shaktis which are embodiments of Rudras from all sides
and always: those are Aghora Shaktis, Ghora Shaktis and Ghoratari Shaktis.” (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Swami Lakshmanjoo, personal letter to John
Hughes, June 1989</i>) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i>“O Lord Shiva! You alone transform
yourself into all forms, into the forms of the powers of Rudra as Aghora, the
enlightening and uplifting energy; Ghoratari, the frightful darkening energy
which pushes one down, and Ghora, the energy which keeps one fixed, neither
rising nor falling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These forms,
embodied in Rudrashiva are helpful to the aspirant who is aware and frightful
for the one who is not, pushing him down and down.”</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>(Swami Lakshmanjoo, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sacred
Verses for Worship, translation of Aghora mantra 1990</i>)<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> More people started to come into the
inner cave, and the friendly priest gestured for us to move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least two hours must have passed since I first
entered the holy cave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could never
have stayed this long during normal times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The problems in Kashmir prevented most pilgrims from reaching Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On peak days, I was told, there is a long
line of devotees standing on the steps, and it is not unusual for them to wait
for two hours before they can have darshan of the ice lingam for just a
minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most auspicious time for the
Amarnath yatra is the month of Shravan which starts with the full moon in July
– Guru Purnima – and ends with the full moon in August – Rakhi (Shravan) Purnima.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">On our way down from the holy cave, one old sadhu
unexpectedly stopped George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Your knees
are not good,” he said, and with a quick gesture, he vigorously rubbed George’s
knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Knees are okay now!” said the
sadhu and quickly disappeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George
told me later that, in fact, a lingering pain in his knees subsided after the
incident with the sadhu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked to
the end of the steps and stopped at a tent where people were eating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no charge for food at Amarnath,
though one may leave a donation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mind
was flying high, and I did not feel like eating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stood at the tent entrance looking up at
Amarnath when I heard a voice next to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Auntie, I am looking for you,” said the Muslim
boy who brought me in on the horse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Come quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will
rain.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I waved to the others and
followed the boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He carefully took my
hand lest I should fall on the slippery path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When the path got steeper, he stopped at a stall selling trinkets and
said, “Auntie, wait here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll bring the
horse.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched the Muslim shopkeeper
cover trinkets, Hindu deities and prasadam he had displayed for sale with a
plastic cloth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It started to rain a
bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shopkeeper motioned to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come stand under my tent and put your bag on
the table so it won’t get wet,” the shopkeeper said with a friendly smile.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The boy appeared with the horse, and I made a
sad attempt to get into the saddle. “Auntie jump,” said the boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shopkeeper kindly helped to hoist me onto
the horse and tucked in my plastic raincoat around the saddle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather was changing rapidly as we
started on our way back to Panchtarni.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
strong wind had picked up and the rain felt sharp on my face, but I experienced
too much joy to feel cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steady and
unperturbed, the young boy walked through mud and ice, perfectly guiding the
horse back to Panchtarni.</span><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The innocent, loving kindness this boy had
bestowed on me touched me deeply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt
that he was my family, and I was not just a rhetorical aunt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to make him happy and all I had to
give was my gratitude and some money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I handed
him a nice tip of Rs 500 note as a gift before I got off the horse in Panchtarni.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He held the money and looked perplexed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh no, auntie,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point, the old man who owned the
horse appeared and I paid him the agreed amount of Rs 1,200.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy was still holding the Rs 500 note,
not knowing what to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I put the
note into his shirt pocket and said, “Dakshina,” I was rewarded with a smile I
shall treasure for a long time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I realized that George was quite ill when he reached
Panchtarni.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had high fever, and his
cough sounded worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was cold and
raining heavily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We needed to get him
back to the hotel in Pahalgam as soon as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though there were quite a few people in front
of us waiting for a helicopter, people at the helipad put George on the next
helicopter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Claudia and I were lucky to get
on the last helicopter to Pahalgam for the day, and we got to sit in front next
to the pilot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most amazing scene presented
itself right in front of my eyes – to the left and to the right were majestic
mountains, silent witnesses of Lord Shiva’s glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wished I could have made myself very large,
so large that I could have spread my arms and embrace these beautiful mountains
clad in eternal ice.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Praying for Divine Intervention<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</span></span></span></h2>
</div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">We stayed in Pahalgam for three days waiting for
George to get well enough for the return journey to Srinagar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to the curfew, I stayed in the hotel and
had ample time to reflect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This area of
Kashmir is predominantly Muslim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought
of the cooperation between Hindus and Muslims I had witnessed at Amarnath and wondered
if this would be possible in all of Kashmir.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s not a Hindu versus Muslim problem,” said
the hotel manager, who is Muslim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s
a Kashmiri problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everybody here is
suffering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hotel is empty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This tourist season is a loss and we may not
recover for the next three years.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The way the manager talked about suffering
touched me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had the stoic expression
of someone who is used to suffering. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
learned that the distinguished man who served us meals so attentively was not a
waiter at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a professional
trekker but had no clients. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told me
of a French man he trekked with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He had
a large camera and wanted to take pictures of the Pahalgam Ramakrishna Ashram,”
said the trekker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You have to hike up
the mountain for about an hour or so or take a pony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody lives there; it’s mostly a big rock
with writing on it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered if this
rock relates to Swami Vivekananda’s travels in the region.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hindu pilgrims visiting the holy shrines of
Vaishno Devi and Amarnath have a significant impact on Kashmir’s economy, but
Kashmir’s troubles are not only of an economic nature. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are complex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are political clashes: Kashmir is a
disputed territory administered by three countries – India, Pakistan and the
People’s Republic of China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are
clashes by separatists who want Kashmir to be autonomous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are religious clashes:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kashmir is an important region for Hindus,
Muslims and Buddhists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to add
intensity, self-interested parties instill hatred in good peoples’ hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a result, senseless violence kills too
many individuals who could have lived productive lives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">One thing all people in Kashmir have in common,
whether they are the security forces, the militants or the general public who
live there: they are all suffering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
taxi that took us back to Srinagar had a broken rear window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a new Toyota, and I was curious how
the window got broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The driver
explained that a man standing on the street threw a rock at his car because he
was driving Hindu pilgrims.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most
Amarnath pilgrims leaving Pahalgam joined a military convoy to take them down
the mountain over dangerous roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
passed a long line of taxis and felt sad that people had to take such
precautions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">My heart goes out to the Kashmiri people who are
stuck between warring parties, who just want to go on with their normal lives
and who suffer with seemingly no end in sight. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My empathy goes to all the disappointed
pilgrims who were stopped and could not proceed to the holy cave of
Amarnath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am also sorry that I was not
able to visit the Ramakrishna Mission due to the curfew in Srinagar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pray to Sri Ramakrishna to turn hatred into
respect and understanding and bring peace and harmony to the beautiful but troubled
region of Kashmir.</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Om Namah Shivaya</span></span></span></h2>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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Elizabeth Usha Hardinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00089850526408986284noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-22780433849272143032017-03-21T17:08:00.000-07:002017-03-23T15:52:07.092-07:00Sisters and Brothers of the Forest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">Sisters and
Brothers of the Forest</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">By Elizabeth
Usha Harding</span><br />
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Please
fasten your seatbelts,” said a flight attendant over the PA system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’ll be landing shortly at Swami
Vivekananda International Airport in Raipur.” Wow!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was amazed to hear that the city of Raipur named
their airport after Swami Vivekananda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Swamiji
lived in Raipur from 1877 to 1879 when his father Viswanath Dutta, an attorney
at the Kolkata High Court, was transferred there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that time, there were no good schools in
Raipur, and the fourteen-year-old Naren (who later became the famous Swami
Vivekananda) spent time at home learning from his father and discussing
spiritual topics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remembered a story I
had read about young Naren traveling in the countryside near Raipur in a bullock
cart when the sight of a large bee hive caused him to go into a deep spiritual
ecstasy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">People
in Raipur are proud that India’s national hero lived there for two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides naming their airport after Swamiji,
they also erected a gigantic statue of Swamiji sitting in meditation pose, overlooking
a lake in the heart of the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
say that the years Swamiji spent in Raipur were a turning point in his
spiritual life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Raipur is the capital
city of the recently created state Chhattisgarh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This land of Chhattisgarh and Madhya Pradesh was
made sacred by the feet of Lord Ram, Sita and Lakshman who lived and walked
through these forests after being banished from their royal palace in
Ayodhya.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a land I’ve wanted to
visit for a long time.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZX4CyXnopxL1oenyCVYyWxCnuDypYNaC6ABEy5itafmL24EkVvjdX-7ZlQVI-zH9aLO7I1c0at6t8jFEQYL0Ka2-2X2yECprr5Z8alqS7piDRMsNKhBXQ7IOdJyd_U5q4t-bnNJQw_rU/s1600/IMG_1997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZX4CyXnopxL1oenyCVYyWxCnuDypYNaC6ABEy5itafmL24EkVvjdX-7ZlQVI-zH9aLO7I1c0at6t8jFEQYL0Ka2-2X2yECprr5Z8alqS7piDRMsNKhBXQ7IOdJyd_U5q4t-bnNJQw_rU/s400/IMG_1997.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">When
I boarded the Chhattisgarh Sampark Kranti Express in Raipur, my heart was filled
with anticipation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a seat next to
the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon after the train left
the station, the landscape changed from industrial to rural.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gently rocked by the movement of the train, my
mind was entranced by the landscape of meadows, forests, streams and lush,
green hills. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scenery was so
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagined Lord Ram and
Lakshman walking through this forest collecting wood while Sita Devi, wading in
the shallow water of a crystal-clear stream, washed berries and fruit she had
collected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also imagined forest
dwellers coming by and humbly offering their service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely, the royals had a lot to learn from them
about how to survive and sustain themselves in the jungle.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">My
daydream broke when it was time to get off at Pendra Road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was on my way to Amarkantak, the sacred
mountain where gods, saints, rishis and every-day pilgrims come to do
tapasya.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Viswatmananda, head of
the Ramakrishna Kutir Amarkantak, had sent a jeep with a driver to pick me up
at the station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We drove along a narrow
country road up steep inclines and through a dense forest that is home to
monkeys, bears, tigers and other wild animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We made our way around sharp hairpin curves, and when we reached the
plateau, I got my first glimpse of the holy river Narmada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is said that you need to take a bath in
the Ganga in order to become purified, but you only need to look at the Narmada
for all your sins to fly away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart
was leaping with joy, filled with contentment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was nothing I wanted more at the moment than to breathe in this
spiritual atmosphere.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcoYbnZmBs0mHsg6bdPyq-Tiew1D_PjQwpBM8bsXZ-SGnXIUK4w-OB4DwiuhTzDPg6185BGXoXlYhEXsDgozbZeAB7cYYfCsxUTyAaOmUWxfWkdHD6B665IJTiMUn5F3Hzx_-Ybfo_Bxo/s1600/162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcoYbnZmBs0mHsg6bdPyq-Tiew1D_PjQwpBM8bsXZ-SGnXIUK4w-OB4DwiuhTzDPg6185BGXoXlYhEXsDgozbZeAB7cYYfCsxUTyAaOmUWxfWkdHD6B665IJTiMUn5F3Hzx_-Ybfo_Bxo/s400/162.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ramakrishna Kutir Ashrama at Amarkantak</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The
driver opened an iron gate and parked the car in front of the temple at the
Ramakrishna Kutir ashrama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I climbed up
the steps to the shrine room to bow to Sri Ramakrishna, Holy Mother and Swamiji.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Ramakrishna Kutir was started by Swami
Atmananda, a charismatic monk of the Ramakrishna Order, and dedicated in 1979 by
Swami Gambhirananda, the 11<sup>th</sup> president of the Order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inspired by Swami Atmananda, Swami
Viswatmananda - this is his proper name but everybody calls him Jayram Maharaj
- has lovingly taken care of this ashram for the past 36 years.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Over
the next few days I visited the Narmada Kund and several other ancient, holy
places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt carefree and happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then something happened that started to turn
my Western cultural understanding upside down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lord Shiva showed me His bleeding heart as it were.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<h2>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Journey
to the Source</span></b></h2>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The
Ramakrishna Kutir is located in the tribal area of Amarkantak, and there is a
school for tribal children nearby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
afternoon hordes of tribal children come to the ashram to play and pester
Jayram Maharaj for “lozenges” (candies). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have no shoes, and their school uniforms
are shabby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Girls wear a white blouse
and blue frock, and boys wear a whitish shirt and blue half pants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it gets cold in Amarkantak, Jayram
Maharaj opens up his storage room to teachers from the tribal school who hand
out sweaters to the children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only
children but tribal women also come and receive provisions and chadders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that Swami himself makes frequent
trips to a wholesale place in Bilaspur - a treacherous 5-hour trip over a
terrible road – where he purchases colorful sweaters, dresses, pants, school
bags, pencils and pads for the tribal children.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgnZmma6Peh5eYEMFRmuS8ViDgWTMlH0Mnl1Ce5ejkuOyY_XQtSWmsakO26fw13KyiODb6-H8brxJxrt52hfgAvkzJBdPhw7qIeGfHDL0x5d8vSGrErhN5Btc4gthH-mr5wUGvGSlK5E/s1600/IMG_2054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgnZmma6Peh5eYEMFRmuS8ViDgWTMlH0Mnl1Ce5ejkuOyY_XQtSWmsakO26fw13KyiODb6-H8brxJxrt52hfgAvkzJBdPhw7qIeGfHDL0x5d8vSGrErhN5Btc4gthH-mr5wUGvGSlK5E/s400/IMG_2054.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jayram Maharaj handing out shawls to tribal women</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">At
night, I heard angry shouts that broke the serenity of the flowing
Narmada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The tribal men get drunk and
then get abusive,” said Jayram Maharaj.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fights break out, and the drunken, upset men often leave their
families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crammed into ramshackle
houses, women have to bring up their children alone, scratching together meager
means.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A large percentage of the
children who frequent the ashram in the afternoon grow up without fathers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">So
many questions came to my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How did
all of this happen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How did these tribal
people, who had lived harmoniously for thousands of years in the forest, come to
be in such a lowly condition?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxyMfuPpuJo8Cg10YPZkPsJcvSv9-6k7gXHhxBzxO2RmP0JrDvqfgxqeD_6eAM2F4ul1BzvEuQN8-u3S9cvR8TChekpLV7r6ZHPh_DfU_FYaFPIVI9FBOXxRLdrQin-oTZz8gQkkywsMM/s1600/Amarkantak+tribal+huts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxyMfuPpuJo8Cg10YPZkPsJcvSv9-6k7gXHhxBzxO2RmP0JrDvqfgxqeD_6eAM2F4ul1BzvEuQN8-u3S9cvR8TChekpLV7r6ZHPh_DfU_FYaFPIVI9FBOXxRLdrQin-oTZz8gQkkywsMM/s400/Amarkantak+tribal+huts.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tribal living quarters</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">As
I pondered these questions, I was reminded that indigenous people worldwide have
been living under threat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The emphasis
of their ideology is different from that of modern Western thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They consider the ground on which they stand to
be sacred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their connection to their
land kindles a deep reverence to nature – springs, rivers, mountains, forests,
plants and animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their relationship
with nature weaves a rich and complex tapestry of culture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Earth is alive and feels what we do to
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the Bastar region of
Chhattisgarh, for instance, tribal people still prefer to use wooden ploughs
because they believe iron ploughs will hurt the earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">In
stark contrast, modern society values global capitalism which cares more about
power and shareholder profits than about protecting natural resources.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’ve been trying to instruct us to be
capitalists ever since you got here,” said Onondaga Faith-Keeper Oren Lyons, a
respected Native American elder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We
don’t value what you value."</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span> <br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">In
my quest to find answers, I found my pilgrimage to heaven leading straight into
the heart of darkness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Vivekananda
often pointed out that the affluence of the West largely comes at the expense
of the indigenous people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I, too, share
the blame because I am part of this modern culture that displaces native and
tribal people, without guilt, in the name of progress and makes them dependent
on things they previously never needed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
use consumer products that likely have been manufactured using raw materials
obtained by illegal mining that poisons the land of forest dwellers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must admit I have not paid enough attention
to the plight of tribal people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this
plight is not unique to India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Horrific
things have been done to indigenous people in North and South America, Africa,
Australia, the Philippines and other regions in the world. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxRKZ0wRAuB-6ANg5fkZvePonaPZQkiwA7OL5kcCNb4GIagQQdaAFyiheMMWZ8894MmTFQtBWP4FJul9sg1cbHfAA7n8iLrRmMJsJq7qqlQxw6-RpNgb8UmjTE7fI54ygEYYsZkRNEoU/s1600/Amarkantak+tribal+lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxRKZ0wRAuB-6ANg5fkZvePonaPZQkiwA7OL5kcCNb4GIagQQdaAFyiheMMWZ8894MmTFQtBWP4FJul9sg1cbHfAA7n8iLrRmMJsJq7qqlQxw6-RpNgb8UmjTE7fI54ygEYYsZkRNEoU/s320/Amarkantak+tribal+lady.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Adivasis</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">, literally meaning ‘original inhabitants,’
is an umbrella term for the more than 600 distinct tribes that live in the
jungles and hills of India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have to
fight today for the right to live on land they have called home for
centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These Adivasis don’t
understand the modern land ownership system of parcels and titles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have always lived there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So the land belongs to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can you buy or sell the sky?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can you buy the warmth of the land, the
freshness of air, or the sparkle of water?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The government tells them that their land does not belong to them and
regularly forces them to leave, thereby threatening their survival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The government calls Adivasis “Scheduled
Tribes,” a term for people formally acknowledged by national legislation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the people that modern “progress”
has left behind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9QSLIAajZ8xv_0QkvRMneUuIYch3pT1iS3p6wEUQuMcHU0A-z1H02zpTEAgHg2X1HapEmvSmhyphenhyphenBMdE3WzuW96gVoIHCHxQzQ32hyGs8Crr4s5ThvqvLa26BHWJXsDFRHY5ihk_15ee4/s1600/Amarkantak+Narmada.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9QSLIAajZ8xv_0QkvRMneUuIYch3pT1iS3p6wEUQuMcHU0A-z1H02zpTEAgHg2X1HapEmvSmhyphenhyphenBMdE3WzuW96gVoIHCHxQzQ32hyGs8Crr4s5ThvqvLa26BHWJXsDFRHY5ihk_15ee4/s400/Amarkantak+Narmada.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Narmada river at Amarkantak</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">As
the source of the Narmada, Amarkantak is naturally also the home of Lord
Shiva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many pilgrims on the way to
take a dip in the Narmada Kund and to have darshan of Lord Amarkanteshwar Shiva
drive past the make-shift huts of tribal communities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their fancy air-conditioned cars don’t
stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The poor, the illiterate, the
ignorant, the afflicted – let these be your God,” Swami Vivekananda used to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Know that service to these is the highest
religion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He who sees Shiva in the poor,
the weak and the diseased really worships Shiva!” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdjoP5aiaBygRhIKEdhzi2EI3O5PlhVv98zGic-jruhit42E9UBaayRthPDBeTKWoR59hVOJcOvOkBkvzXpVq7vKLNAZAZsGoq30EFnwfJyAsWy1BEpv69TNEd5HniZ05mMXmyFAfbFM/s1600/India+2015+433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdjoP5aiaBygRhIKEdhzi2EI3O5PlhVv98zGic-jruhit42E9UBaayRthPDBeTKWoR59hVOJcOvOkBkvzXpVq7vKLNAZAZsGoq30EFnwfJyAsWy1BEpv69TNEd5HniZ05mMXmyFAfbFM/s320/India+2015+433.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Amarkantak
is in Madhya Pradesh, and looking across a gorge, one can see the state of Chhattisgarh,
home to perhaps the largest and oldest tribal communities in central India.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTd4xnx1eX76W2rjWOjJrSVeuRgkSLWL7sLvBkHMTZBLLc-0BO0esjFYGIGcyPmh56hCmiGFCCZjC4dgUFS-J56kZQaz3e93MFBzrii4btxlLcztVLPVykS_zuAFp22PAXZnoZVJqD3Yg/s1600/IMG_0633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTd4xnx1eX76W2rjWOjJrSVeuRgkSLWL7sLvBkHMTZBLLc-0BO0esjFYGIGcyPmh56hCmiGFCCZjC4dgUFS-J56kZQaz3e93MFBzrii4btxlLcztVLPVykS_zuAFp22PAXZnoZVJqD3Yg/s400/IMG_0633.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">There
is a story in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ramayana</i> about an
old woman from the Nishada tribal community by the name of Shabari who lived in
a hut in the forest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nishada is the name
of a kingdom mentioned in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mahabarata</i>
which belonged to th tribe of the same name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Today, a small town called Shivrinarayan located near Bilaspur, marks
the area where Shabari lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lord Ram
and Lakshman stopped unexpectedly by her hut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“My Lord, I have nothing to offer you but my heart and a few berries I
had picked earlier,” said Shabari with tears in her eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lakshman tried to stop Lord Ram from eating
the berries since Shabari had tasted each one of them to make sure they were
sweet enough for offering to her beloved guest. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Putting some berries into his mouth, Lord Ram
said, “Nothing equals these berries offered with such devotion.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<h2>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Sisters
and Brothers of the Forest</span></b></h2>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Chhattisgarh
is among the greenest states in India with 44 percent of its total area forested
and contains diverse flora with more than 80 species of medicinal plants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This land is blessed with beautiful and
rugged mountain views, deep gorges, dense forests and wild flowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A variety of wild animals roam the country –
bears, tigers, deer, monkeys, birds, wild boars, panthers, snakes, wild dogs,
hyenas and crocodiles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many wild
bee hives and giant ant hills reaching up to twelve feet high.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">In
spite of this abundance and beauty, Chhattisgarh is among the states with the
lowest standards of living in India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Poverty is widespread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than
half of the rural and urban tribal populations are extremely poor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were pushed into poverty, never making a
transition to the modern way of life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The
largest tribal communities in central India are Gonds and Gond subgroups who
have a population of over four million, according to a recent government study.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gonds are predominantly Hindus and like to
live in groups in the forest or in small villages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are famous for handicrafts made from
bamboo, cane and metal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tribal people
were the first metal smiths in India, and they still continue to <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>forge and hammer metal using age-old
processes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides known for creative
handicrafts, they possess a special skill in theiir knowledge of medicinal plants
which has been handed down through generations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Opinions
differ on the origin of the Gonds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
scholars believe that they came from the South of India while others believe that
their origins lie in the area around Amarkantak. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Gond legend traces their origin to Lingo Pen,
who later became known and worshiped as Badadev.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day an artist awoke in the mind of Badadev
who created various creatures and humans from the filth he found on Badadev’s
body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Gonds love to tell
stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are very creative and fond
of poetry, riddles, dancing and singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Gonds have learned to keep to themselves because some of their
traditions are controversial to Hindu society, attracting the attention of tourists
and scholars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have a practice
called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ghotul</i> in which unmarried
teenagers live together in a dormitory for some time, allowing them to select
their mate and gain experience for setting up a household.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Divorces and widow remarriages are common,
but adultery is strictly forbidden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">A
sub group of the Gonds are the Baigas, who mainly live in the dense forest and
hilly regions of Madhya Pradesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
consider themselves servants of the Earth and kings of the forest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They perform priestly worship services.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before sowing season, Baigas often perform
soil worship for the Gonds and other tribes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They also prepare seeds for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Baiga women are fond of tattooing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Another
important tribal community are the Bheels, who are mostly spread throughout
Madhya Pradesh. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bheels consider Eklavya
of the Nishada tribe to be their ancestor, and they are regarded as a warrior
caste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Mahabharata tells the story of
Eklavya wanting to study archery from Dronacharya but was denied because he
belonged to a tribe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deeply hurt,
Eklavya returned home with a resolve to master archery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He created a mud statue of Drona and, before the
image, began a disciplined program of self-study over many years. He developed
into an archer of exceptional prowess.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Other
major tribal groups are the Bhatras and Dhurvaas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They live in the Bastar and Raipur regions of
Chhattisgarh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bhatra women enjoy a high
status in their society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bhatra girls
have full freedom to choose their husbands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the Dhurvaa tribe, women also enjoy a high standing and are
responsible for most of the family maintenance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dhurvaas make their living through agriculture, hunting, selling
handicrafts made with cane and gathering forest products.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their festivals involve animal sacrifices to
propitiate their village goddess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tobacco and an intoxicating liquor made from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mahuva</i> flowers are a must for such celebrations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Trees
are sacred in tribal communities, especially the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mahuva</i> tree, which is also known as the “Butter Tree.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tribal people worship this tree as the home of
Baba Goraknath. It is sacrilegious to cut it down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mahuva trees have large thick leaves and
scented, sweet-tasting, pulpy flowers that grow near the ends of the branches. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These flowers can be dried and preserved and
used as food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The seeds from the fruit
are rich in oil that is used for cooking and for making soap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Mahuva
liquor is also used by the Abujhmar tribe, who live deep in the forests in
Narainpur Tehsil of the Bastar districts in southern Chhattisgarh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since they live in isolation and avoid contact
with outsiders, they have retained much of their customs, traditions and
values.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hunt with spears and arrows
and cultivate land without ploughing the Earth, lest they inflict pain on her
body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They protect tigers from poachers.
Although regarded as less civilized than other Gonds, they far surpass them in
strength and ability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have a strong
sense of community and value equality and brotherhood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Each
tribal group has its own rich and distinct culture, its own dialect, dress,
eating habits, and rituals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is
common among tribes is the simple and natural way of life that has changed
little over centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marriages tend to
take place within the tribe. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Festivals involve
group dances. Participants wear colorful costumes, ornaments and bright
headgear made of beads, shells, bones, feathers and mixed metals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each tribe has its own festivals, but all
major tribes show up at the Bastar Dassera festival at the Devi Danteshwari
temple, near Jagdalpur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This temple is
considered one of the fifty-two <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shakti
Peetams</i>.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD3c_izD5LL9UPbyUNVR9-8eMD5X2zXFrpPxpRkFhkWdJ7KKnlZLPWINxFxVUKM4EGlk4FOkzTHFPYIuQI42R_QkCwTZ71kgITV8ot1lLQSK0y9278BfTJPKpQBTwzcQCfGvRqhQtA7zc/s1600/131015125036-Dantewada-Chhattisgarh-Tour.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD3c_izD5LL9UPbyUNVR9-8eMD5X2zXFrpPxpRkFhkWdJ7KKnlZLPWINxFxVUKM4EGlk4FOkzTHFPYIuQI42R_QkCwTZ71kgITV8ot1lLQSK0y9278BfTJPKpQBTwzcQCfGvRqhQtA7zc/s400/131015125036-Dantewada-Chhattisgarh-Tour.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Devi Danteshwari</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The
Bastar Dassera festival is worth mentioning in more detail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beginning on the new moon in the month of
Shravan, Bastar Dassera lasts over 75 days and ends on the thirteenth day of
the bright moon in the month of Ashwin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
focus of the festival is Devi Maoli and her sisters. Devi Maoli is Bastar’s
native deity, revered as the elder sister of Devi Danteshwari, the family
goddess of the ruling Kakatiya family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though
the festival has its roots in Hinduism, it has assimilated many tribal
elements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeezTqj6oPBoP2l6_URKuJ0SK1zaDOIA0xLkap1tWG6fozZil1fLkCKwV5NjEQwe4541kMduanFrTWatxEcneVb2UGAmqSdQXbSTeqg1iLG9RlBUmwLoJsigUpKhvLDTO4_RElg5-vjI/s1600/bastar-dussehra-festival.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeezTqj6oPBoP2l6_URKuJ0SK1zaDOIA0xLkap1tWG6fozZil1fLkCKwV5NjEQwe4541kMduanFrTWatxEcneVb2UGAmqSdQXbSTeqg1iLG9RlBUmwLoJsigUpKhvLDTO4_RElg5-vjI/s400/bastar-dussehra-festival.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Bastar
Dassera involves the participation of diverse tribes, each of whom is assigned
a specific task.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tribal carpenters come
from the Beda Umargaon village to build a two-tiered chariot, and tribal
villagers from Karanji, Kesarpal and Sonabal gather to twine the massive ropes
that pull the chariot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the
festival, young tribal members from Kachorapati and Agarwara pull a smaller
chariot while the larger chariot is pulled by Maria tribal members from
Killepal who wear bison-horned head dresses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The task of singing hymns at all rituals is the job of the Munda tribal
members from the Potanar village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
chosen tribal girl gets assigned to swing on a bed of thorns during the
festival, and a young tribal man is designated to hold vigil for nine days
while buried shoulder-deep.</span><br />
<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6GAWaSeOPOHAWCnUs_Q5lmn5znsr43UQKedP5OhiweOAIBFxqc0tSWMSUgiM-7rHG1HFxADH2vIZP_kX4OMn0eUl4gMBPqIwNPvbohHwdfXOjIma1ENzZ6jVwlmucgmBBrUIEnBCkuk/s1600/bastar_0.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6GAWaSeOPOHAWCnUs_Q5lmn5znsr43UQKedP5OhiweOAIBFxqc0tSWMSUgiM-7rHG1HFxADH2vIZP_kX4OMn0eUl4gMBPqIwNPvbohHwdfXOjIma1ENzZ6jVwlmucgmBBrUIEnBCkuk/s400/bastar_0.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">One
of the most awaited events during Bastar Dassera is the ratha yatra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An outsider may consider these chariots
primitive but they are made with great pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The festival starts with the worship of the wood that will be used to
build the chariots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only ancient tools
are used.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Modern tools are taboo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When one sees these chariots pulled by over
400 Maria tribal members - who usually live in isolation in the dense forest -
one gets a powerful visual of tribal faith and ingenuity. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizg4DmGWaVfORZdk-2m6yuNClnn4L-5pcvDTsauMup_TS6TNa_UL9QnarlO0aBY5vl5-fZgaQbD729Ucfn3DpjIMW7TKkLICd9CZ2Dqo6Y8T9PhHm2TUh4vSO-KD42uDFCcEbj6QTzrjw/s1600/197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizg4DmGWaVfORZdk-2m6yuNClnn4L-5pcvDTsauMup_TS6TNa_UL9QnarlO0aBY5vl5-fZgaQbD729Ucfn3DpjIMW7TKkLICd9CZ2Dqo6Y8T9PhHm2TUh4vSO-KD42uDFCcEbj6QTzrjw/s400/197.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Haat
bazars are another occasion for tribal people to socialize.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are weekly markets in rural areas where
people go to purchase supplies for the week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Amarkantak haat bazar is held Sunday afternoons between 3 and 5 pm near
the Narmada Devi temple on a vacant lot where large yatra buses normally park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Villagers sit on the ground and display their
produce on a cloth spread out in front of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You have to bring your own bag to carry the produce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jayram Maharaj had asked me to purchase
vegetables since he was planning a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bandhara</i>
(feast) the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had great fun pushing
through the crowd and purchasing fresh vegetables and fruit for the cook at the
Ramakrishna Kutir, but I did not bargain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Seeing the poverty of the villagers, I gave them the price they asked
for. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Tribal
Despair in Perspective</span></b>
</h2>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">To
understand the cause of why tribal people are passing through a difficult time,
one needs to go back to the early 20<sup>th</sup> century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that time, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the government
opened many tribal regions to non-tribals who received free ownership of land
in return for cultivating it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tribal
people never had formal land titles for their ancestral land, and by the time
they understood that they needed these, they often lost the opportunity to lay
claim to their land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The British and
post-independence regimes belatedly realized the necessity to protect tribal
communities from outsiders and prohibit the sale of tribal lands.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">By the 1970s, many tribal peoples
had lost their land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outsiders simply
squatted on their land or lobbied governments to classify them as tribal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A resident non-tribal shopkeeper became a
permanent feature in many tribal villages, often selling goods on credit and
demanding high interest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many fell so
deeply into debt that they had to mortgage their land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Government policies on forest
reserves equally affected tribal peoples profoundly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exploitation of forests has often meant
allowing outsiders to cut large areas of trees while the original tribal
inhabitants were prevented from cutting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tribal people in Bastar had ownership rights over the trees on their
land for centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A wide-spread scam
in the 1990s allowed timber merchants to buy tribal lands, leading to
large-scale felling of trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Amarkantak
alone, the forest has been decimated since Jayram Maharaj arrived 35 years
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“When I came, the jungle around the
ashram was thick,” he said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">India needs more energy, and Chhattisgarh
is the main source for India’s electricity and steel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tribal communities lost hundreds of thousands
of hectares of forest land due to dams on the sacred river Narmada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A recent mega steel plant project worth Rs
18,000 crore in the Dantewada District has drawn much opposition from tribal
members in the area. The Steel Authority of India said that this plant will
provide employment and pave the way for development.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“We got to know about it a month ago
through the press,” said a tribal farmer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“We do not trust them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are not
educated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if the plant comes up, they
will not employ us because we are illiterate.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Another said, “This land is our God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The land, the forest, water, trees are our gods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We get cured by the plants in the forest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can we give all this up?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Tribal
people are proud of the way they live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They do not want charity, just the right to live their lives on the land
they have called home for centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An
indigenous person without land is no longer indigenous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tribal people </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">want development
in terms of colleges and vocational training.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Currently, there is only one tribal university in India. It is located
in Amarkantak and was established by the Indira Gandhi National Tribal
University Act in 2007. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fully funded by
the Government of India, this university was started to give tribal students
access to higher education.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regional
campuses aim to preserve tribal art, culture and knowledge of medicinal
plants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Poverty and illiteracy have made
tribal people fair game for powerful parties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On one side, the Government is actively trying to recruit tribal members
into their paramilitary force, and on the other, the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naxal Maoists have also tried to recruit them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
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--</style><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>As the Government fights the Naxals, and the
Naxals fight the Government, tribal members are caught in between their cross
fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
district of Bastar is most affected by this conflict. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The population of Bastar is 70% tribal
and has the lowest standard of living in India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bastar and Dantewada are the most illiterate districts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tribal members living there suffer heartbreaking
pain from extreme poverty.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“My
God, the Poor - My God, the Miserable”</span></b></h2>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Jayram Maharaj told me that he
was giving a bandhara for tribal girls coming from Bastar, I expected to see
them dressed in poor clothes with poverty written all over their faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, they poured out of the bus
handsomely dressed in red-and-white checkered school uniforms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had come on a yatra with their teacher
all the way from the Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama in Narainpur which is about a
six-hour drive south of Raipur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
lunch and some rest, the girls filed into the shrine room upstairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They sat down neatly and started to sing
bhajans in perfect unison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their
powerful voices echoed throughout the ashram, and even at the gate you could
hear, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ramakrishna sharanam, Ramakrishna
sharanam, Ramakrishna sharanam, sharane.</i>”</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5rtxfsLxe8pIB_jLRZ-NGopiXPlUdmzga6enJEjYcCszt1MFyAkrORKJIXO01nT5V5cN68prpWVD7TB6X5mjmrXCy1FAwFC5Meof-QcsH7cUwaTps475BJjjVXPuTsQ0FAxKUeVK2Rg/s1600/121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5rtxfsLxe8pIB_jLRZ-NGopiXPlUdmzga6enJEjYcCszt1MFyAkrORKJIXO01nT5V5cN68prpWVD7TB6X5mjmrXCy1FAwFC5Meof-QcsH7cUwaTps475BJjjVXPuTsQ0FAxKUeVK2Rg/s400/121.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tribal girls from the Ramakrishna Mission Narainpur</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">After
arati, the girls got ready to go back to Narainpur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jayram Maharaj told me that he had to fight
with the corrupt bus driver who demanded 1,000 rupees more than what was originally
agreed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the teacher accompanying
the girls was ready to pay this amount from her salary, I quickly offered 1,000
rupees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget the
surprised, overwhelmed and relieved expression of this superb teacher who had
taught these tribal girls so well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Truly, the gift lies in giving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These girls were a shining light in the darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They gave me hope that something positive
could happen to the tribal population of Chhattisgarh. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Who
hears the cry of the poor, the afflicted?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Addressing the suffering of India’s poor, Swami Vivekananda’s roar can
still be heard over the land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The poor
are the Narayanas. They must be served with food and education.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Him I call a Mahatman whose heart bleeds for
the poor!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWR72NDg-rU5wKJOROA1UwuMJUwMgY_dsBKMZIGKV8R4c6YypDVt2Be6XcfzkXqmiJQj1tKBtonmP5FORueUiRs8oCp2FHvNBF73OzzK9KnKBesizqiCd45ivH0d4EL2ZBEHLYywOz1-Y/s1600/Swami+Atmananda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWR72NDg-rU5wKJOROA1UwuMJUwMgY_dsBKMZIGKV8R4c6YypDVt2Be6XcfzkXqmiJQj1tKBtonmP5FORueUiRs8oCp2FHvNBF73OzzK9KnKBesizqiCd45ivH0d4EL2ZBEHLYywOz1-Y/s320/Swami+Atmananda.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swami Atmananda Maharaj</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Tulendra,
who later became Swami Atmananda, heard the call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he was in high school in Raipur, he saw
a photo in a friend’s book of Swami Vivekananda taken at the Parliament of Religions
in Chicago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the early 1940s, people
in Madhya Pradesh were unfamiliar with Sri Ramakrishna, Holy Mother and
Swamiji.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though Tulendra did not know
who the person in the photo was, just looking at the photo had a profound
impact on him and he yearned for more information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had to wait until he went to college in
Nagpur in 1945 and stayed at the Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama Students’ Home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, he immersed himself so deeply in
Ramakrishna and Vivekananda literature that he wanted to give up the material
world and join the Order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His mantra
guru, Swami Virajananda, asked Tulendra to first develop his intellectual and
mental abilities and encouraged him to complete his university education.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tulendra was a brilliant student and
possessed all the abilities for a successful career and social standing, but his
passion for following the teachings of Swami Vivekananda and for serving the
poor drowned out any desire for worldly life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Tulendra
was exposed to spiritual life and the importance of serving humankind early
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His father Dhaniram was a great
devotee of Lord Ram.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moved with his
family to Vardha in Gujarat to follow Gandhiji.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Often when Gandhiji went for a walk, little Tulendra would hold his hand
or his staff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMbLHUp9eu8S01SnuBT21oI93p-rVU6pTeJqgaPSjbYv9pZ0mkjvvUATAsnI4hKnQB3bP3pKVPq6USGMVGJhiwr8fb9z8XVbjM2fsiZ4KxKVpWI3rJSjT_j4QOVHjw6lDKkXPIkth9Bc/s1600/IN11_MAHATMA_GANDHI_7553f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMbLHUp9eu8S01SnuBT21oI93p-rVU6pTeJqgaPSjbYv9pZ0mkjvvUATAsnI4hKnQB3bP3pKVPq6USGMVGJhiwr8fb9z8XVbjM2fsiZ4KxKVpWI3rJSjT_j4QOVHjw6lDKkXPIkth9Bc/s400/IN11_MAHATMA_GANDHI_7553f.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Tulendra pulling Gandhiji by his staff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">When Gandhiji went to
jail, Dhaniram also was arrested, leaving Tulendra’s mother Bhagyawati Devi to take
care of the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During these
difficult days, Tulendra formed a strong bond with his mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not want to leave his family without her
permission but was afraid she might stop him in his resolve to become a
monk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day after dinner, he said,
“I’m going now.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His mother replied in
her customary manner, “Sure, go ahead.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He said this three times and each time received the same response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With that, Tulendra left his family and was
on his way to a life of renunciation and service to mankind. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Tulendra
was initiated into brahmacharya by Swami Shankarananda and given the name of
Brahmachari Tejachaitanya.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He spent many
intense years of spiritual development but felt that his progress was
incomplete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a burning desire
in his heart to start an ashram dedicated to Swami Vivekananda in Raipur, the
city where Swamiji lived in his early life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He knew he was not ready yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking
a leave of absence, he went to the Himalayas and spent time with Swami
Purushottamananda, who lived in a small kutir about 15 miles above Hrishikesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Purushottamananda was a direct disciple
of Swami Brahmananda and had received sannyas from Swami Shivananda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was now approximately 80 years old. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwNHXObAMfSMW4LYwrhhcOyZIfZAKUFZ3Ckh_jag0EVWIvUGeUOmAaw-NNq5qI00FVUlA9uq6w6Wa-gJhaQ_UYJqi_iTNooigvnlXtim7Nx0VRLFhGqYT690sCJY2FE9R3BSc3FtCjJk4/s1600/Swami+Purushottamananda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwNHXObAMfSMW4LYwrhhcOyZIfZAKUFZ3Ckh_jag0EVWIvUGeUOmAaw-NNq5qI00FVUlA9uq6w6Wa-gJhaQ_UYJqi_iTNooigvnlXtim7Nx0VRLFhGqYT690sCJY2FE9R3BSc3FtCjJk4/s400/Swami+Purushottamananda.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rev. Swami Purushottamananda Puri</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Every
day at 3pm Swami Purushottamananda would come out of his kutir and go into the
nearby Vashishta Cave where he would give discourses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To get to the cave in those days, one had to
walk through rugged and dense forest teeming with wildlife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Feel,
feel for others!” Swami Puroshottamananda used to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do not search for happiness outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A man embraces a lady and gets
happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is the cause?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a moment, his mind becomes calm and
quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So he feels happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He thinks it is from the lady, but really, it
is from inside that he becomes happy. Every time you get happiness, you are
getting it not from external things but from within and within alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please note this carefully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Search inside alone.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Swami
Purushottamananda often asked the spellbound devotees around him, “Who are you,
after all, my friend?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day, you say
‘I’, ‘I’ a thousand times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Find out what
is this ‘I.’ Now I shall take you very quickly to the real ‘I.’ Do you
understand that the seer is always separate from the object seen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am seeing you, but I am not you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am separate from you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am seeing my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not the body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can say boldly and fearlessly that ‘I am
not the body.’ I am seeing my mind, my buddhi, my ego.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Therefore, the Rishis have said, ‘I am not
the body, nor the mind, nor the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Antahkarana</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am that happiness – Sat Chit Ananda.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Swami
Purushottamananda was a hard task master.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Swami asked Brahmachari Tejachaitanya, who was afraid of wild
animals, to stay at the cave alone at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“There is nothing to fear,” said Swami Purushottamananda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If death must come, one can be killed by wild
animals in the middle of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it
is not supposed to happen, wild animals can come in the middle of the night and
sit close by without hurting you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
teaching made the young brahmachari more confident but he soon had to pass an
even tougher test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami
Purushottamananda asked him to deliver a letter at midnight to a home half a
mile away through thick jungle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he
walked in the black of night, he heard tigers growl, but putting his fear
aside, he delivered the letter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the
way back, Brahmachari Tejachaitanya felt elated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had conquered his fear and understood what
Swami Purushottamananda had taught him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
spent the rest of the night wandering in the jungle, singing and feeling
immense joy. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Brahmachari
Tejachaitanya had conquered fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He now
was strong and ready to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He left
the Himalayas and returned to Raipur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Strengthened by dreams he had of Swami Vivekananda and Swami
Trigunatitananda both encouraging him to start an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ashram</i>, he established an office of the Ramakrishna Seva Samiti in
Raipur and began giving discourses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
had a dynamic personality which attracted many capable people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">On
the auspicious day of Buddha Purnima in 1960, he went to Amarkantak and took
the vow of sannyas in front of the Siddheswar Shiva lingam in the Narmada Devi
temple compound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking the name Swami
Atmananda, he went after his goal of establishing a Vivekananda Center in
Raipur with greater zeal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1961 the
State Administration allotted a large piece of land for the ashram, and by 1963
a student center, a Vivekananda library and a Vivekananda hospital were
opened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Atmananda also started a
quarterly publication called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vivek Jyoti</i>
in 1963.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">During
this time, many Hindus fleeing genocide in East Pakistan sought refuge in
Madhya Pradesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Resettlement camps were
set up in Dandakaranya, and Swami Atmananda spent large sums of money from the
Vivekananda ashram funds for this purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Swami Gambhirananda came from Belur Math to inspect the work that had
been done in the camps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swami Atmananda
accompanied him, and together they toured the camps as well as tribal areas in
Bastar.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pJ3EyR2Iz2gGi19glJqdBoXSeynNChvLt5ZKB7EbB_qWlw_luJXonWMyDfzbR7Zb1JzaNXUAcO6Id1kDQvxbqaWXqwzALaTSMxGnNL-crx6W0FleeslV5J4AR-dKjd5TeSIMSVsnMko/s1600/Swami+AtmanandaEdit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pJ3EyR2Iz2gGi19glJqdBoXSeynNChvLt5ZKB7EbB_qWlw_luJXonWMyDfzbR7Zb1JzaNXUAcO6Id1kDQvxbqaWXqwzALaTSMxGnNL-crx6W0FleeslV5J4AR-dKjd5TeSIMSVsnMko/s320/Swami+AtmanandaEdit.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swami Atmanandaji Maharaj </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Swami
Atmananda knew Chhattisgarh very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had traveled to many areas in the state over several years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On one such trip he reached a remote area
inhabited entirely by tribal people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There he saw something that troubled him deeply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tribal women were drinking water from the
same pond with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>dogs and other
animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Can we not help these people
live a human existence?” asked Swami Atmananda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Are they not our brothers and sisters?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How can we allow them to lead such difficult lives?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, the seed was planted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A significant part of Swami Atmananda’s life would
be spent in the service of the poor and tribal communities. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">On
the birthday of Holy Mother Sarada Devi, Swami Atmananda was given formal
sanyas by President Maharaj Swami Vireshwarananda at Belur Math, and the Raipur
ashram was brought into the Ramakrishna Mission and re-named Ramakrishna
Mission Vivekananda Ashram.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Swami
Atmananda had a track record of service to others in Chhattisgarh, and the
state administration had great regard for his work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Swami worked with local and state
officials to ensure that tribal welfare would formally become a part of the
state’s 5-year plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The year of 1985
was a significant year for tribal people in Bastar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The government allocated Rs 2 crores and 42
acres for tribal welfare.</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<h2>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Ramakrishna
in the Heart of Tribal Land</span></b></h2>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The
Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama Narainpur was set up in 1985 for the upliftment of
the tribal people of Abujhmarh who lived in the surrounding 4,000 square kilometers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Mission started a village development
program that included schools and fair-price shops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Mission also installed water pumps,
provided malaria medicine, and built roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In order to help young tribal members out of poverty and give them
confidence, a Vivekananda Tribal Youth Education Center run by the Mission
provided them with education and training.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Women’s
education was a topic of great importance for Swami Vivekananda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking Swamiji’s words: “India’s progress can
never be complete without the education of women,” Swami Atmananda took it upon
himself to ensure that tribal women had educational opportunities and grew up
in a healthy environment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He started an
organization called VISHWAS (Vivekananda Institute for Social Health Welfare
and Service) to provide educational opportunities to women and girls from
tribal regions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the help of an
educator friend, he started residential schools for tribal girls to teach
various subjects including their own culture, puja, prayers, bhajans and
kirtan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girls also were encouraged
to play sports.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This curriculum was set
up to give the tribal girls confidence and make them self-reliant.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The
girls that chanted so beautifully during arati at the Ramakrishna Kutir in
Amarkantak are the outcome of the efforts at the Ramakrishna Narainpur
Ashram.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately Swami Atmananda
could not see the results of his untiring work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He died in a car accident while returning from Bhopal to Raipur in 1989.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“The
Narainpur school is only attended by tribal members,” said Swami
Satyarupananda, head of the Ramakrishna Mission Vivekananda Ashrama,
Raipur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We started with 9 or 10
students and now have over a thousand students and five branches in the forest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When our tribal boys pass from our school,
they are able to make a living.”</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSf5mLja55qOU8C665BCZoNODY0DrX32hFCVwzTY05ejliFDYqIfcvd5s6WQkVgiJMpL7hlmCbXHAJaO_YtDmfnX_rFns89xQw0Ro4c2aYdjs91GJ0oDZv6jOb1PuMiu-Paf0-7O8YDo/s1600/363ed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSf5mLja55qOU8C665BCZoNODY0DrX32hFCVwzTY05ejliFDYqIfcvd5s6WQkVgiJMpL7hlmCbXHAJaO_YtDmfnX_rFns89xQw0Ro4c2aYdjs91GJ0oDZv6jOb1PuMiu-Paf0-7O8YDo/s200/363ed.jpg" width="190" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swami Satyarupananda</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I
couldn’t help but ask the Swami how the Order deals with the troubles between the
Government’s paramilitary force and the Naxal Maoists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We have no conflict,” said the Swami with a
smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We get good will from all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are doing good to people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ask for no money, we give education, food
and clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We bring Sri
Ramakrishna,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holy Mother and Swamiji to
the tribes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They see Sri Ramakrishna,
but we do not disturb their belief in their goddess Danteshwari. ”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I
never met Swami Atmananda, but I can see him in the deeds and people he left
behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His magnetic personality
attracted many people, and according to Jayram Maharaj, he started some twenty centers
including Amarkantak, Raipur, Indore, Omkareshwar, Narainpur, and
Bilaspur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is responsible for many
young men entering the Order and take to spiritual life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
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--></style><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Jayram
Maharaj told me that Swami Atmananda did not initiate, but I could see his
influence in the great work being done quietly at the Amarkantak ashrama. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>“Swami Atmananda was a charismatic
speaker,” said Jayram Maharaj.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He had a
very positive outlook and a very sweet voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He sang very well and was fond of going to the forest to sit for
meditation and see wild animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
night, Swami Atmananda was sleeping outside on the veranda when he woke up smelling
a peculiar odor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He found a tiger
sleeping next to him and when he called out for others to take cover, the tiger
got startled and ran into the jungle.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsktcbWpFICbIT_l0Q2kzpWAKhJyjLLs_4Naas0FyfDNNvL1z0O5GAspmpNBsTaxlbftEdZVfxbtuzQduNbci0sI_FV_AjX3QeOU5tJvrcA-1QFyfTJA4yxTZWt1ClG-Oq3K_78x3DdE/s1600/India+2015+901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsktcbWpFICbIT_l0Q2kzpWAKhJyjLLs_4Naas0FyfDNNvL1z0O5GAspmpNBsTaxlbftEdZVfxbtuzQduNbci0sI_FV_AjX3QeOU5tJvrcA-1QFyfTJA4yxTZWt1ClG-Oq3K_78x3DdE/s320/India+2015+901.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr.Om Prakash Verma and Jairam Maharaj at the tribal school Raipur</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two of Swami Atmananda’s younger
brothers joined the Ramakrishna Order and became monks - Swami Nikhilatmananda
and the late Swami Tyagatmananda, both of whom at one time headed the
Ramakrishna Math and Ramakrishna Mission Sevashrama in Allahabad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Swami’s youngest brother, Dr. Om Prakash
Verma, fulfilled the Swami’s dream for building a memorial for Swami
Vivekananda in Raipur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“After Swami
Atmananda’s death, we established the Vivekananda Vidyapith in Raipur,” said
Dr. Verma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We started the Vidyapith as
a residential school in 1994 with about 15 students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, we have about 400 residential
students.”</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSXq2lL_6STXTao2e5rMeGAgZ8QIsQeO_AlZZV_uIHKJG4bJOzENFT3YoOMd6FYbVpsB-9mKIUgpl94YXI2yWXItE3Qn7uszzPHWdB4OPPIAtGyq7spS37ErVx0r8MXPpalKwCFokLtI/s1600/Swamiji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSXq2lL_6STXTao2e5rMeGAgZ8QIsQeO_AlZZV_uIHKJG4bJOzENFT3YoOMd6FYbVpsB-9mKIUgpl94YXI2yWXItE3Qn7uszzPHWdB4OPPIAtGyq7spS37ErVx0r8MXPpalKwCFokLtI/s320/Swamiji.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swami Bhaskaranandaji Maharaj</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>Swami Bhaskarananda, head of the Sri
Ramakrishna Ashrama in Ujjain, was at the Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama in
Narainpur from its inception in 1985 and stayed there for 12 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I had a golden opportunity to be with Swami
Atmananda for a couple of years,” said Swami Bhaskarananda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He was a dynamic Swami with the tender heart
of a mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to elevate tribal
children to the standards of modern society and to give the children good
facilities and environment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They also learned
to chant difficult stotras very nicely.” </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Change is inevitable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In order to thrive in the modern world,
tribal people have to adapt, which comes with a compromise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“With all these developments,” said Swami
Bhaskarananda, “we have disturbed their culture, simplicity and honesty, but as
a result, tribal students often become doctors and engineers.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">There
was much on my mind when my pilgrimage to Amarkantak ended and I returned to
America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that I should be more
conscious of where I put my values, and with sensitivity and tenderness, I
should build deeper relationships with people and the land on which we
live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our sisters and brothers in the
forest need help.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“The
world is in need of those whose life is one burning love, selfless,” said Swami
Vivekananda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That love will make every
word tell like a thunderbolt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bold words
and bolder deeds are what we want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Awake, awake great ones!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
world is burning with misery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can you
sleep?”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWJYESz4w8MayRXfIvucOgMDTr2hkvx1HZXxs967_EgT0c0bH_a4815JYNLrnvzim9nwXoUNpfWNfW1EX7wnXzF61imeXthTGaptXNWAftkcBEvRy_KjUNfEk31Pa_LVC2EOu3VAUu9c/s1600/swamiji+raipur+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWJYESz4w8MayRXfIvucOgMDTr2hkvx1HZXxs967_EgT0c0bH_a4815JYNLrnvzim9nwXoUNpfWNfW1EX7wnXzF61imeXthTGaptXNWAftkcBEvRy_KjUNfEk31Pa_LVC2EOu3VAUu9c/s400/swamiji+raipur+2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Largest statue of a seated Swami Vivekananda is in central Raipur</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
Elizabeth Usha Hardinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00089850526408986284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-37338615858620179282012-12-10T14:28:00.001-08:002013-01-19T11:45:36.435-08:00Swami Vivekananda<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">The
Great Sacrifice<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoP0uv2tDzbSfBpKR6i6jk2cGaB_CN4OUrTSIv-HHM7lTaErYLQws0av34gw0DGPbQK-MX1lISIOo5enubbxaAzTfy_P3XixB94tPDWs3UFX4BoRJNrhAsLSFNFsgBLnm9Q9Wucdet388/s1600/vivekananda.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoP0uv2tDzbSfBpKR6i6jk2cGaB_CN4OUrTSIv-HHM7lTaErYLQws0av34gw0DGPbQK-MX1lISIOo5enubbxaAzTfy_P3XixB94tPDWs3UFX4BoRJNrhAsLSFNFsgBLnm9Q9Wucdet388/s1600/vivekananda.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">I
wanted to write an article in honor of Swami Vivekananda’s 150<sup>th</sup>
birth anniversary, but I didn’t quite feel qualified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not a scholar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have not researched Swamiji’s writings and
life story in great detail.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">And
then I felt a nudge as it were. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps
I should give it a try.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may not have
the authority of a scholar but I am a devotee of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kindly take my words as an offering. They may not be perfect, but they come from my
heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I take the liberty to quote Leonard
Cohen’s famous song:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ring the bell that still can ring; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>forget your perfect
offering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>There is a crack, a crack in
everything </i></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><i>…. that’s how the light gets in!</i></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
</span> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">What
strikes my mind when I think of Swamiji is how much he sacrificed for love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knowingly gave up the bliss of the Eternal
to step into our world of Finites, our world of pleasure and pain. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he have a choice?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could he have refused Sri Ramakrishna who
asked him to come down to the world with him?</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Though
a great rishi immersed in deep meditation in the loftiest of realms, Swamiji
could not resist the pull of Sri Ramakrishna’s divine love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consenting, he gave up the eternal bliss of
Oneness for a human birth in our troublesome world to serve his beloved Master.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scope of Swamiji’s sacrifice can probably
be best understood by Sri Ramakrishna’s parable on four friends who scaled a
wall and, finding utmost bliss on the other side, they never returned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Once four friends, in the
course of a walk, saw a place enclosed by a wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wall was very high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They became eager to know what was
inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of them climbed to the top
of the wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What he saw on looking
inside made him speechless with wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He only cried, ‘Ah! Ah!’ and dropped in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He could not give any information about what he saw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The others, too, climbed the wall, uttered
the same cry, ‘Ah! Ah!’ and jumped in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now who could tell what was inside?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">~ </span><i>Gospel of Sri
Ramakrishna</i></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">We,
who struggle in this world, have turned our backs to eternal bliss out of ignorance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swamiji knowingly left this bliss because of
love. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are bound by our own doings, by
our ego, by our attachments and desires, but Swamiji had no such bondage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only power that could bind this great
rishi was love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Perhaps
I should define what I mean by “love,” an abstract term used by people freely
to describe feelings that span the spectrum from vile to sublime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Using the word “love” in connection with
Swamiji and Sri Ramakrishna, I mean the kind of love that is passionate but free
of lust and greed like the love the Gopis had for Sri Krishna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I humbly admit that I don’t comprehend the
depth of such a love, and I am merely using this term for the sake of
communication. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">When
the great rishi took birth as Naren in Kolkata, he took on a human body and a
human mind like any other ordinary mortal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But there always was a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was no ordinary mortal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
always felt… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"></span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>... A presence that disturbs
me with the joy<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>Of elevated thoughts; a sense
sublime<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>Of something far more deeply
interfused,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>Whose dwelling is the light of
setting suns,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>And the round ocean and the
living air,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>And the blue sky, and in the
mind of man:<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>A motion and a spirit, that
impels<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>All thinking things, all
objects of all thought,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>And rolls through all things….<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">~
<i>Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern
Abbey</i> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">by William Wordsworth<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</span><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
</div>
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Life
is difficult from the start for one who intensely loves God and has to grow up
in a society of parents, family, teachers, neighbors and friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little Naren enjoyed playing with friends
but, at the same time, he must have felt alone in their company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who could understand his feelings?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a young man, what agony Swamiji had to
endure trying to find a reference point in the world around him that tallied
with what he felt inside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swami
Chetanananda in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vivekananda: East Meets
West</i> mentions Swamiji telling one of his English disciples how restless he
was as a child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">In my childhood I used to
observe an inexhaustible force arising in me, overflowing my body, as it
were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to become restless and
could not keep quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was why I
used to fidget all the time…. My insides would vibrate, as it were, and make me
restless to do something.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Although
life at home was good and he excelled in everything he undertook – be it
studies at school, music, martial art, debates, philosophy, scriptures – Naren
found no peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing could calm the
fire that burned in his heart.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Could
a rishi descended from sublime realms ever feel content in the cage of a human
body and mind?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He searched for God and,
being a modern young man, he joined the Brahmo Samaj.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked respected elders, “Sir, have you
seen God?” only to find them shake their heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No, they had not seen God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
only talked about God and what He was like as if they knew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">One
day, Naren’s professor, Principal W.W. Hastie, elaborated on the subject of
trance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He used a particular Wordsworth
poem to demonstrate what he meant by trance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">...but
for the growing Youth<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">What soul was his, when, from the naked
top<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of some bold headland, he beheld the
sun<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Rise up, and bathe the world in
light! He looked--<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ocean and earth, the solid frame of
earth<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And ocean's liquid mass, in gladness
lay<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beneath him:--Far and wide the clouds
were touched,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in their silent faces could he
read<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unutterable love. Sound needed none,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor any voice of joy; his spirit
drank<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The spectacle: sensation, soul, and
form,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All melted into him; they swallowed
up<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His animal being; in them did he
live,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And by them did he live; they were
his life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In such access of mind, in such high
hour<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of visitation from the living God,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thought was not; in enjoyment it
expired.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No thanks he breathed, he proffered
no request;<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rapt into still communion that
transcends<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The imperfect offices of prayer and
praise,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His mind was a thanksgiving to the
power<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That made him; it was blessedness and
love!.....<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Excursion </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">by William Wordsworth</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtEX3iCUJRPcBBd-ueqmo7GFnVVNFIEY5-KpvdsThGJyP3NxFqGJzauwwKXJBlDIpL7WbbDilSnugtXa2ziua06zXZRW8EaXZxacMp4mHuAVqwhEHxcvAQuc1bfHRn55J9wi_7Yyk_ym9e/s1600/ramakrishna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtEX3iCUJRPcBBd-ueqmo7GFnVVNFIEY5-KpvdsThGJyP3NxFqGJzauwwKXJBlDIpL7WbbDilSnugtXa2ziua06zXZRW8EaXZxacMp4mHuAVqwhEHxcvAQuc1bfHRn55J9wi_7Yyk_ym9e/s1600/ramakrishna.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">“Such
an experience is a result of purity of mind and concentration on a particular
object,” said Principal Hastie, adding that he had only met one person who might
have experienced such a blessed state of mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This person was Ramakrishna Paramahamsa of Dakshineswar.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Young
Naren had found what he was so desperately searching for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he asked Sri Ramakrishna, “Sir, have you
seen God?” Sri Ramakrishna answered without a moment’s hesitation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">“Yes,
I have seen God,” said Sri Ramakrishna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I see Him as I see you here, only more clearly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God can be seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One can talk to Him.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Naren,
at once, felt irresistibly drawn to Sri Ramakrishna, but he was
English-educated and taught to be skeptical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a member of the Brahmo Samaj, he had to promise not to bow down to a
deity with form. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naren loved and
respected Sri Ramakrishna but sometimes mocked his fervent devotion to Ma Kali.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Some
years passed but, slowly under the influence of Sri Ramakrishna’s spiritual
power, Naren’s doubts and skepticism melted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Though he continued to rebel and argue some times, in the end, he had to
surrender to the Divine Mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">When Naren’s
father died in 1886 and left the family at the brink of starvation, Naren begged
Sri Ramakrishna to ask a boon of Ma Kali on behalf of his family.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">“My
boy, I can’t make such demands,” said Sri Ramakrishna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why don’t you go and ask the Mother
yourself.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiABm2MYEASSzGRWdZXWlVKttxIGyEC5UHfFrqwta86Xj9iDegx4NAnglVZ6gCtELGzApl6yUgVHMaiI7qBdndesPMUfii_0Frc89quH7Sbfv1BMtcPUIkP2OlrPhp8702T8W8VORSolNBM/s1600/IMG_0766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiABm2MYEASSzGRWdZXWlVKttxIGyEC5UHfFrqwta86Xj9iDegx4NAnglVZ6gCtELGzApl6yUgVHMaiI7qBdndesPMUfii_0Frc89quH7Sbfv1BMtcPUIkP2OlrPhp8702T8W8VORSolNBM/s320/IMG_0766.JPG" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Desperate
to save his family, Naren put aside Brahmo Samaj principles and bowed down low
before Ma Kali.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stood in the inner
shrine of the Divine Mother, but he could not pray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He saw the beautiful form of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ma Bhavatarini Kali and was engulfed in a
surging wave of love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naren forgot
everything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flushed, and
intoxicated in a divine mood, Naren addressed Ma Kali with folded hands:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ma, give me discrimination, give me
renunciation, grant me knowledge and devotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ma, grant me that I may have uninterrupted vision of You!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Naren
failed to ask a boon for his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sri
Ramakrishna sent him back three times, but every time, Naren forgot the world
when he saw the beautiful face of the Divine Mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He no longer saw a statue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He saw Ma and felt overwhelmed.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Sri
Ramakrishna was very happy that his Naren had finally accepted the Divine
Mother and, full of compassion he blessed him, saying: “All right, your people
at home will never be in want of plain food and clothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">What
followed was a night of blissful adoration during which Sri Ramakrishna taught Naren
a song glorifying the Divine Mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Naren was a superb musician and had a beautiful voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">“Mother, Thou art our sole
Redeemer,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Thou the support of the three gunas,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Higher than the most high.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Thou art compassionate, I
know,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Who takest away our bitter
grief.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Thou art in earth, in water
Thou;<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Thou liest at the root of all.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">In me, in every creature,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Thou hast Thy home; though
clothed with form,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Yet art Thou formless Reality.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Sandhya art Thou and Gayatri;<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Thou dost sustain this
universe.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Mother, the Help art Thou<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Of those who have no help but
Thee,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">O Eternal Beloved of Shiva!”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>~<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sri Ramakrishna and His Divine Play<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span></i><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><i> </i>(t</span></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">ranlated by Swami Chetanananda)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Naren
had a great capacity for embracing deep spiritual experiences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though the spiritual dose he had already received
from his Master overwhelmed him, he still wanted more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For days, he begged Sri Ramakrishna to give
him the experience of nirvikalpa samadhi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One day at the Cossipore garden house, Sri Ramakrishna granted his
prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naren went deep into samadhi
losing his body consciousness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Bathed in peace, he went to
the Master, who said:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now the Mother
has shown you everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this
revelation will remain under lock and key, and I shall keep the key. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you have accomplished the Mother’s work,
you will find the treasure again.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> ~</span>
Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Naren,
who became Swami Vivekananda after the passing of Sri Ramakrishna, dutifully carried
this responsibility for the rest of his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had a mission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had to
perform work for the Divine Mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Swamiji taught and spoke like a jnani, but inside, his heart was full of
bhakti -- contrary to Sri Ramakrishna, who exhibited so much bhakti outside but
was a jnani inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
began to wander all over India, travelling from the high Himalayas in the North
to India’s southernmost tip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He saw the
greatness of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>,
but he also saw the problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His large,
compassionate heart was painfully squeezed seeing the extreme poverty of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s
masses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“An empty stomach is no good for
religion,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">What
could he do to ease their suffering?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">The
Divine Mother’s answer came through the Raja of Ramnad in South India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Raja encouraged Swamiji to go to <st1:city w:st="on">Chicago</st1:city> in 1893 to represent <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> at the Parliament of
Religions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If successful, Swamiji would
not only enhance <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region></st1:place>’s
prestige in the West but also create confidence among Indians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Should
he go to the West?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was this the will of
Ma?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swamiji had to be sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went to the Kanya Kumari temple, and after
prostrating at the feet of Mother Kumari, he jumped into the ocean and swam to
a rock about 500 meters away from the mainland.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">This
sounds romantic, but if you take a ferry from the mainland to the rock, you
realize how dangerous it was to swim through such turbulent water full of gigantic
waves and rip currents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact that
Swamiji took such a risk gives us a glimpse into Swamiji’s inner fire driving
him mercilessly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He agonized over decisions
he made to be certain he was doing Mother’s work and not his own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Meditating
without food and water, Swamiji spent three nights on this rock during the Christmas
week of 1892 (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vivekananda: East Meets
West</i> by Swami Chetanananda).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If it
is the Mother’s will that I go, then let me receive the money from the people,”
said Swamiji.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It is for the people of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> that I am
going to the West – for the people and the poor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji’s
purpose for going to the West was to help the people of India, but as it turned
out, the Divine Mother Kali of Dakshineswar, the Savior of the Universe, had
larger plans for him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swamiji was a
world teacher and came for all – the people of the East and the West.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sri Ramakrishna wrote on a piece of paper, “Naren
will teach men.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next, he drew a
peacock, a symbol of attraction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swamiji
was all that: handsome, charismatic and a convincing teacher.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">He
crossed the great ocean and reached America, yet getting to the Parliament of
Religions in Chicago was not without its obstacles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He arrived with just a small Indian trunk,
too little money and Indian clothes not adequate for the cold in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also had no housing arrangements and no proper
introduction as a delegate for the Parliament.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">As
many of us have experienced, trying to do work for Ma means walking on the edge
at all times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To quote one sadhu: “It’s
no sit-down life!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While Swamiji’s
situation in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:city>
appeared pretty hopeless, it was miraculously turned around by a series of
events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ma makes everything favorable,
but some times She waits until the very last moment to do so.</span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
was able to join the delegates of the Parliament of Religions and was given very
little time to address the distinguished assembly of people gathered in the
large Hall of Columbus. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not need
more time to succeed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">His
first words “Sisters and Brothers of America,” drew a deafening applause from
the audience comprised of about seven thousand people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Swamiji finished his talk, people
climbed over benches for a chance to get near him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next day, newspapers called Swamiji the
best and greatest figure in the Parliament of Religions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overnight, Swami Vivekananda had become
famous in the West.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Iy9qSwg5jwTk44VwwVU7EwpuMhuRA0trngC7i10nGDBuV-3375zgFpPYqCh2aM661OCk9TmE8qvOAI1Jx64S_3NXcAQ5Mc2VIU1YZV5JSsYdKFzmSmfCwTHXM5QywXs2eQHkrsarYfE7/s1600/Swami+Vivekananda+with+other+Religious+Leaders+at+First+Religions+Parliament+-+Chicago,+USA+1893+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Iy9qSwg5jwTk44VwwVU7EwpuMhuRA0trngC7i10nGDBuV-3375zgFpPYqCh2aM661OCk9TmE8qvOAI1Jx64S_3NXcAQ5Mc2VIU1YZV5JSsYdKFzmSmfCwTHXM5QywXs2eQHkrsarYfE7/s320/Swami+Vivekananda+with+other+Religious+Leaders+at+First+Religions+Parliament+-+Chicago,+USA+1893+b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Countless
invitations for speaking engagements followed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The handsome, charismatic Swami mesmerized audiences, and droves of
people followed him wherever he went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An
ordinary person would have been elated by such success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe Swamiji, though most probably
pleased, worried knowing that he had to pay a high price for his victory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">When Swamiji
came to the West, he came to an alien land, the culture of India’s
oppressors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What went through his mind
when he first put on pants and a top coat like an English man?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much did he miss his gerrua sadhu garb
and wooden sandals?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out of love, he dressed
in Western attire for the work Sri Ramakrishna had entrusted in him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Wearing
a particular garb is important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
Jeanne d’Arc was asked why she wore men’s clothes and whether she would
consider putting on a woman’s dress, she answered, “When God’s work is done,
I’ll gladly put on a woman’s gown and even a wedding dress.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jeanne d’Arc led the French army to victory
and paved the way to the coronation of Charles VII after voices from God told
her to do so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She became a national hero
and was proclaimed a saint but never wore a wedding dress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was handed over to the English, put on a
mock trial by the pro-English Bishop Beauvais, convicted and burned at the
stake at the age of nineteen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Had
Swamiji arrived in the West voicing his beliefs one hundred years before,
perhaps people would have burned him at the stake also.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swamiji’s success aroused the jealousy of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s
right-wing religious zealots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
almost poisoned, he was shot at and treated roughly in different parts of the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swamiji endured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Putting praise in one pocket and blame in the
other, he went his way without compromise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">He
ate the food that was given to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Surely, it must have tasted bland to his tongue used to strong spices in
Indian cooking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moreover, Westerners eat
beef and pork – something even non-vegetarian Bengalis would shun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
exhibited incredible broadmindedness and composure as he adjusted to the ways
of the West.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While his heart was bleeding
for the starving masses in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>,
he had to sit in the drawing rooms of intellectuals and the wealthy listening
to well-meaning but most probably condescending talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had to pay attention to rich-peoples’
problems and hear their outlook on the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aside from opinionated Western men, he was surrounded by strong Western women
used to mixing and conversing freely with men – something unheard of in
traditional Bengali society.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
remarkably managed to keep interested ladies at arm’s length as he dealt with
flamboyant opera singers and actresses, socialites and wealthy housewives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To quote the words of one of Swamiji’s
admirers, Mrs. S.K. Blodgett, “Well my lad, if you can resist that onslaught
you are indeed a God!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ6zDKmuZiXtExOU5pDHtMwX8iYw0_EzFOFZbKUn7NQaDW5N0FjRN-yH2c9qCjBwCmRJBDh__A17Vl1bceGZ4kYl7KnYNQrhMh1I1t_Dx2e87qUacpf46SGkBtRIUiieJTfZvg1ov6pQhR/s1600/SwamiVivekanandaQuotes15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ6zDKmuZiXtExOU5pDHtMwX8iYw0_EzFOFZbKUn7NQaDW5N0FjRN-yH2c9qCjBwCmRJBDh__A17Vl1bceGZ4kYl7KnYNQrhMh1I1t_Dx2e87qUacpf46SGkBtRIUiieJTfZvg1ov6pQhR/s320/SwamiVivekanandaQuotes15.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">How
did Swamiji resist Western temptations?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">He could
remain steadfast because his tremendous love was tied to Sri Ramakrishna in
thought and deed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Following Sri
Ramakrishna who saw God in every being, Swamiji focused on the essence all
people around the world have in common: the inherent divinity of mankind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My ideal, indeed, can be put into a few
words,” said Swamiji. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That is: To teach
unto mankind their divinity and how to make It manifest in every movement of
life.” (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vivekananda: East Meets West</i>
by Swami Chetanananda).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
taught the highest Vedanta in the West and started Vedanta centers with the
help of dedicated admirers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lectured on
Vedanta but followed the path of bhakti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When he was asked to give a lecture on Sri Ramakrishna, he declined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could not expose his love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was too intimate a relationship, too
close to his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, it also was
not the right time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While the
intellectuals and well-educated people Swamiji dealt with eagerly sipped up the
abstract teachings of Vedanta, they probably could not have related to the path
of bhakti.</span> </div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">In a
way, I can’t help but believe that the people around Swamiji during this time were
all bhaktas although they called themselves Vedantists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They fell in love with Swamiji and his
ideals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They may have intellectually
followed his words, but how could they possibly comprehend the lofty and deep teachings
of Vedanta?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">To
illustrate this point, there is a great story in the <i>Chandoghya Upanishad</i> about
the gods and demons wanting to know the Atman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They had heard from Brahma that whoever knows the Atman has mastery over
all the worlds and can fulfill every desire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The gods huddled around their chief Indra and begged him to go to
Brahma’s school and get initiated into the mystery of the Atman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The asuras also were determined to know this
Atman and sent their chief Virochana to get training in the wisdom of the
Atman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both Indra and Virochana
approached Brahma waiting for instructions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They waited and waited<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After thirty-two
years Brahma said, “That Being which you see in your eye is the Atman.” </span> </div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Indra
and Virochana looked at themselves in a pan of water and saw themselves
reflected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is the Atman,” said
Brahma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Though
a true statement, no doubt, the mystery behind the instruction was so deep that
it was grossly misunderstood by both disciples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Virochana went back to the demons and told them that he had understood
the Atman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This body is the Atman,”
said Virochana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the doctrine of
the crass materialist the demons learned from Virochana.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Indra,
on the other hand, had doubts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could
this body be the Atman?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He returned to
Brahma and was asked to meditate for another thirty-two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Brahma told Indra, “That which you see
in the state of dream is the Atman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Indra
still had doubts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brahma told him to
practice austerities for another thirty-two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Brahma said, “The deep-sleep state is
the Atman.” Since Indra still did not accept that, Brahma asked him to practice
for another five years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">The
chief of gods had to practice austerities for 101 years before he got the
knowledge of the Atman, yet people think they can understand Vedanta by
listening to a few lectures and reading a few books.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70OFhElVqfrLw5gyCpivB70VysjgfM-hn4wSU3sQAx4POvrp-7pXyfa3tr6bmTg-b3ri3hgIAT9HzjeDpRbggxeZQu4rpnk5ggos_zIahGI_5fTP7cukAWoyPviBvAlipZmgCseNUvet4/s1600/vivekananda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70OFhElVqfrLw5gyCpivB70VysjgfM-hn4wSU3sQAx4POvrp-7pXyfa3tr6bmTg-b3ri3hgIAT9HzjeDpRbggxeZQu4rpnk5ggos_zIahGI_5fTP7cukAWoyPviBvAlipZmgCseNUvet4/s320/vivekananda.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Without
rigorous practice, following the instructions of one’s guru and observing the
yamas and niyamas, it is impossible to go so deep and so high into a state where
one can touch the Atman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s the use to say “I’m standing on the
roof of a house” when I’m stuck standing on the ground floor?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadhana is the stairway to the top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can one ever get full satisfaction if one
practices jnana, “I am the Atman,” without a humble heart filled with bhakti?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">The
West historically has taken concepts from the East, and to make these their
own, has thrown them out of context.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
I say “yes” to Vedanta and “no” to Indian culture, I will lose vital
context.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The setting for a diamond is
almost as important as the diamond itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When Sri Ramakrishna practiced a new spiritual discipline or religion,
he immersed himself in every aspect of the religion and culture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he practiced Islam, he dressed like a
Muslim and ate food prepared in a Muslim fashion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Western
mentality does not want to take time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s an outgoing culture, fast-paced, result-oriented and lays
importance on planning and organizing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Traditional
Indian culture, on the other hand, is slow-paced, follows ancient rules and
customs and lays importance on religion and Sanatana Dharma, righteous
living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a result the West, in general, suffers from
spiritual poverty while <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>
suffers from material poverty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
clearly saw the strengths and shortcomings of both cultures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was hoping to take the best from the East
and the best from the West and bring about a society of God-conscious people
that will do well in the world as well as in spiritual matters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">People
who attended Swamiji’s talks saw a handsome young man full of fun, a passionate
speaker, a great hero, secure with the choices he made in his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could do no wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those close to him knew that he agonized over
every step and every decision he made. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When in doubt, Swamiji would pace up and down
in his room some times all night long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>People heard him talking to someone they could not see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was he talking to the Master and waiting for instructions?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
had to fulfill the mission Sri Ramakrishna had entrusted in him, and he realized
that he could not do it alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travelling in the West, he saw how efficiently organizations worked, but
he also saw the flip side of organization: politics, power struggles and
commercialism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">’To
organize or not to organize,” Swamiji pondered. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I organize, the spirit will diminish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I do not organize the message will not
spread.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">The
frequent torments within his mind, a strenuous lecture schedule and carrying
the burden of starting Sri Ramakrishna’s organization, Swamiji’s health began
to break down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nevertheless, Swamiji
walked up to the Amarnath cave in Kashmir, undergoing severe tapasya such as
bathing in ice-cold rivers and fasting before he entered the holy <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">cave</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Shiva</st1:placename></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps the pain in the world was getting too much for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps he went on pilgrimage to beg Lord Shiva
to lift the burden off his shoulders.</span><br />
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">According
to his disciple Nivedita, he had a profound experience standing before the ice
lingam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s probably safe to infer that
he realized who he was as he stood before the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sri Ramakrishna predicted that once Naren
knew who he was, he would give up his body.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Amarnath
Shiva gave him a boon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shortly after he
descended and came back to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Srinagar</st1:city></st1:place>,
Swamiji left his companions and went by himself to the shrine of Kheer
Bhavani.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pleased by his fervent prayers
and meditation, the goddess came alive for him, and Swamiji saw that her
ancient temple had been desecrated by Muslim invaders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><i>How could people have
permitted such sacrilege without offering strenuous resistance?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I had been here then, I would never have
allowed such a thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have laid
down my life to protect the Mother.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thereupon he heard the voice of the Goddess saying: “What if unbelievers
should enter My temple and defile My image?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What is that to you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you
protect Me, or do I protect you? … If I so wish, I can have innumerable temples
and monastic centres.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can even this
moment raise a seven-storied gold temple on this very spot.” … Referring to
this experience after his return, he said to his disciples: “All my patriotism
is gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything is gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it is only ‘Mother! Mother!</i></span><i><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
<i><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>~ Vivekananda: East Meets West</i><br />
by Swami Chetanananda<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">With
this experience, the Divine Mother had taken the burden off Swamiji’s
shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the beginning of the
end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
travelled to the West for a second time in 1899.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stopped over in <st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region>
and then took a steamer to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overall, it was a disappointing trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disciples did not behave the way he had
envisioned, he was criticized, and things did not turn out the way he had
hoped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He longed to be free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He longed for silent peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He longed to be the wandering monk he once
was, sitting in a kaupin under a tree, begging his food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he was famous now, and everybody wanted
something and expected things from him – in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> and in the West. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His health was bad and his thoughts were on
death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Prais’d
be the fathomless universe,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="140"><o:p></o:p></a></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">For
life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious;</span></i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="141"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"> </span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">And
for love, sweet love—But praise! Praise!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">For
the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding Death.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Dark
Mother, always gliding near, with soft feet,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Have
none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="145"><o:p></o:p></a></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Then
I chant it for thee—I glorify thee above all;</span></i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="146"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"> </span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">I
bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">come unfalteringly.</span></i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="147"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"> </span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Approach,
strong Deliveress!<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="148"><o:p></o:p></a></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">When
it is so—when thou hast taken them, I joyously sing the dead,</span></i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="149"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"> </span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Lost
in the loving, floating ocean of thee,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="150"><o:p></o:p></a></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Laved
in the flood of thy bliss, O Death</span>.</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="151"><span style="font-size: 7.5pt;"> </span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> ~</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">by Walt Whitman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Sri
Ramakrishna had unlocked the passageway to nirvikalpa samadhi. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I shall never see forty,” predicted Swamiji when
he was thirty-nine years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He chose to
give up his body on the 4<sup>th</sup> of July 1902, the day Americans
celebrate <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Independence</st1:place></st1:city>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">Swamiji
left a legacy of teachings and a road map for a new “man-making religion” which
made him an icon worldwide and an Indian national hero. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a spiritual giant who taught in
passionate language and deed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No doubt,
Swamiji gave a lot, but it is Sri Ramakrishna who we really need to thank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without Sri Ramakrishna, Swamiji would have
remained a rishi seated in a lotus position fully absorbed in meditation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt7zpG8NfpW1QOW2fD0DXb41melnGcy3J2t-jYhF6DFRA1erRSznZnC-5Ywqav11h0_TfqK61NoPplZ1GPUJBN2tXxbk7svRqhNWrF9yVYLtEteneyOlbtuezolJvTpnt4UDwDaM9pnngt/s1600/Swami-Vivekananda-Quotes-on-Body.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt7zpG8NfpW1QOW2fD0DXb41melnGcy3J2t-jYhF6DFRA1erRSznZnC-5Ywqav11h0_TfqK61NoPplZ1GPUJBN2tXxbk7svRqhNWrF9yVYLtEteneyOlbtuezolJvTpnt4UDwDaM9pnngt/s1600/Swami-Vivekananda-Quotes-on-Body.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt7zpG8NfpW1QOW2fD0DXb41melnGcy3J2t-jYhF6DFRA1erRSznZnC-5Ywqav11h0_TfqK61NoPplZ1GPUJBN2tXxbk7svRqhNWrF9yVYLtEteneyOlbtuezolJvTpnt4UDwDaM9pnngt/s320/Swami-Vivekananda-Quotes-on-Body.jpg" width="212" /><br />
</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">If
Swamiji were alive today, he surely would be pleased to see how the Ramakrishna
Order he started had grown into a well-functioning huge organization.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would be happy to see the Order’s well-run
schools and mission work, but he would have to throw some of his famous verbal
bombs at the Western-inspired materialism that has infiltrated <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> in recent
years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">The
British with all their might couldn’t change Indian culture, but Western materialism
and gadgets created desires for instant gratification and comfort and that is
changing India at a rapid pace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Corrupt materialism is undermining the very
foundation of Sanatana Dharma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The elite
rich are getting richer, and the poor masses are getting poorer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">If
India, a mighty source of spirituality, looks to the West for its future, the
future will, indeed, be grim – not just for India but also for the West.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swamiji didn’t want to take the worst from
the West.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to take the best
from the West and the best from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>
and build a strong society.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";">India
is rising quickly, but there is still a lot of work to be done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swamiji told one of his admirers, Mrs.
Hansborough, in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">San Francisco</st1:city></st1:place>:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
may have to be born again because I have fallen in love with <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Man.</st1:place></st1:state>”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-62592824845429750802012-05-28T17:38:00.000-07:002012-05-28T17:45:09.505-07:00Mexico Naciente (Spanish edition)<br />
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<b><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Los Dioses Están Vivos y Observando Desde la Colina</span></b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">by Elizabeth
Usha Harding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
(<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Traducido
por Patricia Merino Glancy)</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Es
difícil quedarse callado cuando las noticias que oímos de México son tan
consistentemente deprimentes. Este bello país se encuentra dividido por
carteles de drogas peleándose a muerte, lo que esparce miedo y caos. Nuestros
hermanos mexicanos están matando a sus propios hermanos y hermanas mexicanas.
En la pura Ciudad Juárez, 36,000 personas han sido asesinadas desde el 2006.
¿Quién va a poner alto a esta violencia?</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-njNNaxErtGnZd61hIZUvINj14z69SKeA8S470DIKM1V9Q3nNI3G5jL3K5e-uM_ZI1x1UoT6tYH2mJ8_8rW5W34mJpbVtd-iFBlailR07XvT2qiacRgF2eqzcm26Fg1vK_qyF1svDMHSz/s1600/IMG_0036revisedSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-njNNaxErtGnZd61hIZUvINj14z69SKeA8S470DIKM1V9Q3nNI3G5jL3K5e-uM_ZI1x1UoT6tYH2mJ8_8rW5W34mJpbVtd-iFBlailR07XvT2qiacRgF2eqzcm26Fg1vK_qyF1svDMHSz/s320/IMG_0036revisedSmall.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Por
muchos años he querido escribir un artículo referente a Nuestra Señora de
Guadalupe y la Ciudad de México, pero por una razón u otra dejé a un lado el
proyecto. Había estado ocupada escribiendo acerca de los dioses Hindú y las
peregrinaciones a la India. Durante las expediciones que me llevaron a toda la
India, me di cuenta que la India antigua y el México antiguo tienen mucho en
común.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Ambos
países fueron el hogar de civilizaciones sofisticadas y emplearon medidas
precisas de tiempo y de espacio físico. Vivieron cerca de la naturaleza e
hicieron ofrendas rituales para aplacar y complacer a sus dioses. Los ancestros
de la India y de México fueron matemáticos y astrónomos de primera, que
construyeron templos de acuerdo a dimensiones sagradas que, en algunas
ocasiones, son idénticas. Sus monumentos y templos gigantes todavía están en
pie como testimonio del pasado glorioso.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Ambos
países fueron conquistados por invasores que saquearon sus recursos naturales
y, como resultado, a ambos países en la actualidad se les refiere como países
en desarrollo, naciones pobres.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Sin
embargo, hay una diferencia dolorosa. En la India, las tradiciones antiguas
evolucionaron con el tiempo pero se mantienen y en la actualidad, los dioses Hindú
todavía se les adora en una sucesión interrumpida. La planta nunca perdió sus
raíces. Cada vez que India fue conquistada por un nuevo dictador, los Hindús en
alguna forma se las ingeniaron para asimilar al dios del conquistador a su
panteón existente. En México, por otro lado, las tradiciones antiguas en gran
parte se quedaron en el pasado y, en la actualidad, los dioses de sus
antepasados están relegados a museos.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">En
mi primer viaje a la Ciudad de México, desperté temprano en la mañana por una
voz que oí hablarme dentro de mi mente. Aunque esto es poco usual, en el
momento no lo pareció. La voz era en inglés como de reportero y, recostada en
mi cama matrimonial debajo de sábanas blancas, frescas, escuché en mi mente un
documental de los tiempos históricos y modernos yéndose en declive. Pude haber
apagado esa voz, diciéndome a mí misma que no me dejara llevar por ideas locas
como oír voces dentro de mi cabeza, pero no lo hice, porque las cosas que la
voz me estaba diciendo eran lógicas.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Yo
había venido a la Ciudad de México principalmente para visitar a Nuestra Señora
de Guadalupe y tenía la intención de ir derecho a la Basílica. Quizás la voz en
mi mente estaba en mi destino para que me decidiera a no ir. Por circunstancias
acabé yendo primero al Museo Nacional de Antropología, en el cual se da
alojamiento a los tesoros recuperados de las civilizaciones Olmecas, Aztecas y
Mayas. Algunos de los dioses más poderosos de México viven ahí y, tristemente,
se les hace referencia a ellos como de históricos.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMWtU8sABZb_rSH_ZDJB0AoYd32_S_U5oZrcXsd5zw3S05T-KeLJtwJDJb1wloRK-NHoBqnCJ_ACcqVirEQdunllkLLoUlARZZrWJXV6hNXFGk2pLEGwTVCeiceOisvb3kA5zFTOtX-pU/s1600/Tlaloc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMWtU8sABZb_rSH_ZDJB0AoYd32_S_U5oZrcXsd5zw3S05T-KeLJtwJDJb1wloRK-NHoBqnCJ_ACcqVirEQdunllkLLoUlARZZrWJXV6hNXFGk2pLEGwTVCeiceOisvb3kA5zFTOtX-pU/s320/Tlaloc.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">El
primer dios que encontré fue Tláloc, el dios Azteca del agua y de la lluvia,
quien está parado como estatua gigante sobre una fuente cerca del museo de la
entrada. Había oído una historia en que, a la honra de su nombre, Tláloc
produjo una tormenta de lluvia fuera de temporada cayendo sobre la Ciudad de
México cuando su estatua fue excavada y traída a su ubicación actual.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Viendo
para arriba esta estatua masiva, me froté la cabeza para quitarme un dolor de
cabeza punzante ocasionado probablemente por no estar acostumbrada a la elevada
altitud de la ciudad. Unos pájaros ahí junto estaban metiendo contentos sus
cabezas en el agua verde de la fuente y salpicándola alrededor como invitándome
a hacer lo mismo. En ese momento me acordé de un sacerdote cristiano de Estados
Unidos que me dijo que Tláloc es otra forma del dios de la India, Indra, y que
su agua tiene poderes curativos. Me salpiqué con agua de la fuente mi cabeza y
cuello e inmediatamente me refrescó. En un rato se me quitó el dolor de cabeza.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Había
estado bajo la impresión de que todo México era pobre y estaba atrasado. Aunque
existe la pobreza, la Ciudad de México desde luego no está atrasada. Vi una
hermosa ciudad con árboles exuberantes enfilando las anchas avenidas y personas
con distinción caminando a lo largo de las banquetas pasando cafeterías y
tiendas elegantes.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">El
Museo Nacional de Antropología es uno de los museos más finos que he visto –
mejor que los museos de Viena, ciudad que es famosa por preservar el arte y los
tesoros históricos. Al entrar, uno entra a un patio que está rodeado por salas
de exhibición que muestran los artefactos Mayas, Olmecas y Aztecas. Pasé por
una fuente interesante con forma de sombrilla enorme de la que sale agua y cae
como cascada al suelo.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Afuera
de la espaciosa sala con la exhibición Azteca, hay un modelo de Teotihuacán,
una ciudad antigua que contiene algunas de las pirámides más grandes
construidas en las Américas pre-colombinas. Los habitantes deben de haber mantenido
a su Dios en el centro de sus vidas y actividades, para construir su ciudad
alrededor de pirámides y templos.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Al
ir caminando sobre el piso de mármol bellamente incrustado de la sala de
exhibición Azteca, me pregunté qué harían los visitantes si todos estos dioses
y diosas vinieran a la vida. Pasé por un grupo de turistas amontonados frente
al artefacto que quizás sea el más famoso del museo – la Piedra del Sol Azteca
redonda, un calendario que consiste en un ciclo calendario solar agrícola de
365 días, y un ciclo ritual sagrado de 260 días. Hoy, las personas se ponen
camisetas con el diseño del precioso calendario Azteca, pero es raro que sepan
su significado. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<b><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Coatlicue, Madre de Dioses</span></b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kYXsGj2trBN2O0_pEIwFwis1HqUF2ZvOtlwzShm9PSQOnSJas_FfyK762gRKnAa2AouTzkeGWwOfYmRE-Pe0LYtUTZgFmAOyv0RflUp4f7U-yBU_xTrG1VdFTiTWlYylT3hQpzK4atZ3/s1600/Coatlicue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kYXsGj2trBN2O0_pEIwFwis1HqUF2ZvOtlwzShm9PSQOnSJas_FfyK762gRKnAa2AouTzkeGWwOfYmRE-Pe0LYtUTZgFmAOyv0RflUp4f7U-yBU_xTrG1VdFTiTWlYylT3hQpzK4atZ3/s320/Coatlicue.jpg" width="214" /></a><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Pasando
a través de artefactos históricos, vi una estatua gigante monolítica en el otro
lado de la sala me llamó la atención. Me paré con respeto y temor cuando llegué
a la figura colosal de Coatlicue, madre de los dioses Aztecas y cuerpos
celestiales. Es una representación poderosa de la Madre Tierra, quien da vida
y, cuando llega la hora, se la lleva de regreso a sí misma. Está decorada con
esqueletos, tiene puesta un collar de corazones humanos y una falda de
serpientes retorciéndose. En el idioma nativo Náhuatl, “Coatlicue” significa
“la de la falda de serpientes.”</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">La
apariencia de Coatlicue podría describirse como de terror, pero, para mí, se me
hizo familiar porque por tantos años he estado venerando a la diosa Hindú Kali.
Mi Madre Divina Kali es el poder del tiempo que devora todo. Ella crea y ella
destruye. Con temor de encontrar a mi Madre Divina en la Ciudad de México, me
arrodillé sobre el piso de mármol del museo ante Coatlicue.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Justo
entonces, oí una voz retumbante detrás de mí exclamando, “¡Gracias, gracias!”
De repente, un señor uniformado en silla de ruedas se detuvo a mi lado. “Me da
gusto que le demuestre su respeto a nuestra diosa,” dijo Ángel Rodríguez, un
guía de la oficina de turistas.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Continuó
explicando que Coatlicue representa el poder creativo de la madre Tierra, como
los tres planos del universo: el cielo, la tierra y el mundo subterráneo. Del
cuello para arriba, representa el cielo. En lugar de cabeza, Coatlicue tiene
dos serpientes surgiendo que simbolizan la naturaleza dual de la vida y su
función como creadora/destructora.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">De
acuerdo con Ángel, los Aztecas creen que todas las cosas se originan de
dualidad, de la femenina y la masculina. Los Aztecas también tenían un dios de
dualidad cuyo nombre es Ometecutli, que significa en el idioma Náhuatl “dos en
uno y uno en dos.”</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Para
los Hindús, el principio Shiva/Shakti (masculino/femenino) es de primordial
importancia. La diosa Kali simboliza dualidad a través de sus cuatro brazos.
Sus manos derechas prometen intrepidez y dan bendiciónes, mientras que sus
manos izquierdas sostienen una espada sangrienta y una cabeza decapitada de
demonio. Uno podría llamar a sus brazos derechos buenos y a los izquierdos
malos, pero en realidad está más allá del bien y el mal, al igual que el sol no
puede llamarse bueno o malo. Los rayos de sol nos dan vida, pero también pueden
quemarnos.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3L6yjGvMaTOxvarISyIm1JDMS8Ov44RU8rkJd2b6RLyTvMJxtgmtiUDqeQWS9KqMCLi2o79oOSeMS1M3GmhptPGQNpTALbO8yy3IpePi0N0KrS0bw9bGXl3eRyzBXxQfLKa1e2TIp1mt/s1600/Smashan+Kali+(web).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3L6yjGvMaTOxvarISyIm1JDMS8Ov44RU8rkJd2b6RLyTvMJxtgmtiUDqeQWS9KqMCLi2o79oOSeMS1M3GmhptPGQNpTALbO8yy3IpePi0N0KrS0bw9bGXl3eRyzBXxQfLKa1e2TIp1mt/s320/Smashan+Kali+(web).jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">En
su color, Kali es negra-azulosa profunda, y está parada sobre el cuerpo
postrado de su consunto Shiva, de complexión blanca pura. Es la manifestación
visible de su poder. Sin ella, Shiva no puede manifestarse, y sin él, Kali no
puede existir. Shiva y Shakti están eternamente unidos.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Ángel
se estuvo moviendo con bastante agilidad, considerando estar en silla de
ruedas. Pude darme una idea de su devoción apasionada por esta diosa madre
ancestral observándolo y escuchándolo al ir él señalando las distintas partes
de esta majestuosa diosa Azteca. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">“De
su cuello a su falda de serpientes, Coatlicue manifiesta la Tierra,” dijo Ángel.
“Vemos sus brazos convertirse en serpientes. La serpiente en el México antiguo
representa el poder reproductivo de la Madre Tierra. Sobre el cuello, tiene un
collar de manos y corazones.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">El
corazón, de acuerdo a los Aztecas, es el centro del hombre, de la religión y
del amor. Es el pulso latiente de la vida. Sacrificar al corazón significaba la
liberación de la sangre de vida, dejando que la semilla de vida germine. Las
manos de Coatlicue representan dar vida.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Su
estómago es símbolo de la muerte, por lo tanto la representación de un cráneo
grande. “Cuando nos morimos, todos regresamos al vientre de la Madre Tierra,”
dijo Ángel. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">En
iconografía Hindú, los cráneos también están presentes en los dioses y diosas
más temibles. Ma Kali lleva un collar de 50 cráneos representando las cincuenta
letras del alfabeto, que son la forma escrita del sonido del que, los Hindúes
creen, evolucionó toda la creación. Una vez un amigo señaló que los cráneos
alrededor del cuello de Ma Kali parecen estar sonriendo. Los cráneos también
simbolizan nuestros egos. Cuando corta nuestros egos toda tensión se va. Ma
Kali tiene puesta una falda de brazos mutilados que representan nuestras
acciones. Mientras que tenemos derecho a trabajar, el resultado de nuestro
trabajo le pertenece a ella.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">La
parte media del cuerpo de Coatlicue de la falda a los pies representa el mundo
subterráneo. Sus pies son garras de águila que pueden escarbar dentro de la
tierra y ayudar en la agricultura. Debajo de la falda de serpiente, fuera del
útero maternal, viene una serpiente dando a luz al dios del sol llamado Huitzilopochtli.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">De
acuerdo a la leyenda, Coatlicue estaba barriendo arriba de Coatepec, una
montaña de serpientes, cuando encontró un paquete de plumas. Escondió las
plumas debajo de su falda y un poco después se dio cuenta que estaba embarazada
habiendo engendrado a Huitzilopochtli. Su hija, la luna, y sus hijos, las 400
estrellas del sur, se pusieron celosos y la decapitaron. Pero no se murió
porque Huitzilopochtli la protegió. Nacido en un parto mágico como un hombre
maduro, Huuitzilopochtli en su modalidad de guerrero, decapitó a Coyolxauhqui,
la luna, y le cortó los brazos y las piernas – de ahí que la luna es redonda.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">“El
sol se apodera de la luna con el propósito de dar vida a la Madre Tierra,” dice
Ángel. “La luz sobrepasa la obscuridad.”</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtVOPjE-7DbfnwmzZup4jq7rFMCxMNvcUWyJXGU-t1W5LLUFRGWB3ICOEE85vtcce9ouoCBxMcM8ds8Zo-umqZKDTbkYrrRUsM-UVkkyDVRvno0Gb5TW-SUkdJUi5H5o16FDirsIOnY9k/s1600/P1010004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtVOPjE-7DbfnwmzZup4jq7rFMCxMNvcUWyJXGU-t1W5LLUFRGWB3ICOEE85vtcce9ouoCBxMcM8ds8Zo-umqZKDTbkYrrRUsM-UVkkyDVRvno0Gb5TW-SUkdJUi5H5o16FDirsIOnY9k/s320/P1010004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Ángel
me llevó detrás de la estatua de Coatlicue y me señaló una piedra inclinada
contra el pedestal sobre el que la diosa está parada. Esta piedra, que rodea
las plantas de los pies de Coatlicue, describe un cuarto plano universal –
siendo los otros tres el cielo, la tierra y el mundo subterráneo. Describe la
unión de Tláloc, el dios del agua y de la lluvia, y Tlaltecutli, una serpiente
de mar que es una personificación del furor del caos antes de la creación. En
medio de ellos, un escudo redondo con un cuadrado adentro representa la Tierra
con sus cuatro puntos cardinales del norte, sur, este y oeste. La Tierra,
representada también por Tlali, Chimalma y Tonantzin, se muestra dentro como un
círculo.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">“Mucho
antes que los Europeos, la gente ancestral de México ya tenía el conocimiento
de que la Tierra es redonda,” dijo Ángel.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Le
pregunté, “¿Y qué pasó? ¿Por qué la gente de México ya no venera a Coatlicue?”</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">“Hemos
pasado por una transición de la época pre-Hispánica a la era moderna,” dijo Ángel.
“Después de Coatlicue, la mamá de los dioses Aztecas, vino Chimalma, la Tierra
circular, luego Tonantzin, mamá de dioses y humanos y luego la Virgen de
Guadalupe.”</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Yo
me puse a tomar fotografías de Coatlicue. En el museo son amables y permiten
tomar fotografías siempre y cuando no se use el flash. Cuando me volteé a ver a
Ángel, ya no estaba. Se fue tan de repente que me hizo dudar mentalmente si
había sido real o no. ¿Habrá sido una forma física de la voz que oí en la
mañana? Se había aparecido de repente, nada más me explicó cosas, y se fue. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Me
hubiera gustado preguntarle más acerca de la diosa Tonantzin, quien era
venerada en el cerro del Tepeyac, donde Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe hizo su
primera aparición.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;">
<b><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Teotihuacán, Lugar de Nacimiento de los Dioses</span></b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Aunque
tenía las mejores intenciones de ir directo a la Basílica de Nuestra Señora, el
destino tenía otros planes para mí. Acabé yendo fuera de la Ciudad de México a
Teotihuacán, un enorme sitio arqueológico, con una altísima pirámide del sol y
una enorme pirámide de la luna, unidos por la ancha Avenida de los Muertos.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Algunos
eruditos calculan que esta ciudad debió de haber sido establecida alrededor del
año 100 antes de Cristo, y que para el siglo cuarto, cerca de 200,000 personas
vivían ahí. La ciudad abarca casi ocho millas cuadradas y era más grande y más
avanzada que cualquier ciudad europea de esa época.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqqw2PUfr6-CL4sc1PsSkQMwgCeX2RBpKCS6Zo2iM8LKxAcZHCc0nfRIzztOgVAwltB9FrJD_13266yODvAmcgMCfYcbnQV5PsIg16FhrYB3Wmq9Fs2YBg3UeJc0ykihcdXqvDlj07ol4/s1600/Teotihuacan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqqw2PUfr6-CL4sc1PsSkQMwgCeX2RBpKCS6Zo2iM8LKxAcZHCc0nfRIzztOgVAwltB9FrJD_13266yODvAmcgMCfYcbnQV5PsIg16FhrYB3Wmq9Fs2YBg3UeJc0ykihcdXqvDlj07ol4/s320/Teotihuacan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Hasta
la fecha, Teotihuacán está envuelto en un misterio, y nadie sabe quién fundó
esta ciudad – ya sea las Totonacas, o la gente Otomí, Zapoteca, Mixteca, Maya o
Nahua. Los arqueólogos también encontraron influencia de los Olmecas y
Toltecas. Durante la época de los Aztecas, Teotihuacán era un lugar de
peregrinaciones, el lugar donde el sol nacía.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">La
Pirámide del Sol es gigante – 738 pies en la base de cada lado y 207 pies de
altura. Cuando uno ve para arriba, la gente en la cima se ve chiquita, parecen
hormigas. Decidí subir la pirámide por los empinados antiguos escalones hasta
arriba. Me costó trabajo, y me tuve que ir agarrando a veces del cordón
amarrado perpendicular a los escalones, pero definitivamente valió la pena. La
vista desde la cima es maravillosa, y sentí que estaba sentada en un torbellino
espiritual que podría llevarme en cualquier momento hasta el vasto universo. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Desafortunadamente,
la porción más alta de la pirámide está destruida. Ahora solo nos podemos
imaginar cómo se vería un templo en la punta de la pirámide del sol – columnas
con pinturas de colores vivos en las paredes, sacerdotes con penachos decorados
subiendo y bajando los escalones con ofrendas a los dioses.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Cuando
uno oye acerca de los ritos de los Aztecas, se oye de los sacrificios de sangre
humana. Los Aztecas no fueron los únicos que llevaron a cabo sacrificios
sangrientos en el mundo antiguo. La Biblia también hace mención de sacrificios
sangrientos, y hay reportes de casos aislados de sacrificio humano en la India
del pasado. En la actualidad, algunos templos en la India todavía practican el
sacrificio animal, ofreciendo chivos o borregos a los dioses, pero no es común.
La mayoría de la gente en la India moderna prefiere adorar a la diosa con ofrendas
de flores rojas de hibisco o rosas rojas en lugar de sangre.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">La
historia habla de los Aztecas como gente bárbara y sedienta de sangre porque
practicaban el sacrificio humano para adorar a sus dioses. No se sabe mucho
acerca de sus rituales aparte de que arrancaban el corazón de humanos y
llenaban sus tinas de piedra con sangre. Seguramente, ha de haber habido muchos
otros aspectos de los rituales Aztecas.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Si
pudiera regresarme en el tiempo y ver las cosas a través de los ojos de los
Aztecas, probablemente podría referirme a los Europeos de esa época como
sedientos de sangre y bárbaros. Los Aztecas mataban gente para ofrecer el
regalo más preciado, o sea la vida humana, para aplacar y complacer a sus
dioses. Los Europeos, por otro lado, mataban Aztecas por tener poder y ganancia
material.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Cuando
la diosa antigua de la Divina madre no pudo seguir viendo a sus hijos indígenas
sacrificados, intervino. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;">
<b><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Salvadora de los Indígenas
</span></b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Me
fui de la tierra santa de Teotihuacán y finalmente me dirigí a la Basílica de
nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, la Reina de México y la Emperatriz de las
Américas. Llegué en peregrinación donde se ofrece homenaje a su retrato fiel
del manto milagroso, que se muestra colgado en su templo. En verdad, la
aparición de Nuestra señora de Guadalupe diez años después de la caída de la
Ciudad de México fue milagrosa.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPUqoRm2eLhx8HgKe0kRWi0xpfn_fHiDD48WvJf_tK1pVGkUjx2aep_16Iho9CyM9K40fAmNXGBbajQSAS0xlPSNOKYpufBDZaKIejV2ayOZOIPiQZoFwTTBp2LW1F7aq_kNY1etKZ1DP/s1600/ScanSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPUqoRm2eLhx8HgKe0kRWi0xpfn_fHiDD48WvJf_tK1pVGkUjx2aep_16Iho9CyM9K40fAmNXGBbajQSAS0xlPSNOKYpufBDZaKIejV2ayOZOIPiQZoFwTTBp2LW1F7aq_kNY1etKZ1DP/s320/ScanSmall.jpg" width="200" /></a><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">La
leyenda dice que San Juan Diego, un niño nativo Indio de Cuautitlán, iba
caminando en una mañana fría de Diciembre pasando por el Cerro del Tepeyac. Vio
una hermosa señora parada en la cima del cerro. Hablándole en Náhuatl, la santa
Señora le reveló a Juan Diego que ella era la Divina madre de Dios. Le pidió
que fuera a ver al obispo de la ciudad y le dijera que construyera un templo
dedicado a ella en ese cerro. Juan Diego siguió su orden y, aunque logró
ganarse al Arzobispo Español, el obispo no creyó su historia.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">De
regreso, Juan Diego pasó por el cerro del Tepeyac y otra vez vio a la santa
Señora parada ahí. Ella le dijo que regresara al siguiente día y le dijera al
obispo que construyera un templo dedicado a ella en ese cerro. La segunda vez,
Juan Diego se presentó ante el obispo, y de nuevo se topó con su incredulidad.
Tenía pavor de irse a su casa pasando por el cerro del Tepeyac.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Cuando
la Divina Señora se le volvió a aparecer, Juan Diego le suplicó amargamente que
no le pidiera que fuera a ver al obispo otra vez. Le confesó que era imposible
convencer al obispo. La Señora sonrió y le ordenó a Juan Diego que subiera el
cerro del Tepeyac y juntara ahí rosas de Castilla en flor y se las llevara al
obispo como prueba. Con gran asombro, Juan Diego encontró rosas floreciendo
fuera de temporada en la cima del cerro.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Juan
Diego regresó al obispo y, tal como le instruyó la divina Señora, se abrió su
poncho para entregar las rosas de Castilla. Para asombro de todos, una
impresión de la sagrada Señora del Tepeyac se había quedado marcada en la tela
áspera de fibra de cactus del poncho de Juan Diego. Esto fue suficiente prueba
para el obispo, quien se arrodilló ante él. La sagrada Señora, que le habló a
Juan Diego en Náhuatl, nombrándose a sí misma “Coatlaxopeuh” (o Coatlicue?),
fue vuelta a nombrarse por el obispo como “Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe”, por un
pueblo Español que tenía un nombre parecido en sonido.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Se
construyó una capilla dedicada a la Virgen en el cerro del Tepeyac sobre las
ruinas de un templo dedicado a la diosa Tonantzin, madre de los Aztecas. La
imagen milagrosa de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe sobre el manto conmovió tanto a
los conquistadores como a los conquistados. Los Españoles vieron en ella la
imagen de la Sagrada María, pero los Indígenas en México vieron en ella la
imagen de piel morena de Tonantzin y, por lo tanto, se dejaron de resistir a
ser convertidos a la fe cristiana. Esto salvó las vidas de tanta gente local
que antes se había resistido.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">El
color y la forma de este manto divino no se han desvanecido desde los años
1500. Me detuve frente a la Madre Divina para venerarla, agradecida con las
autoridades de la iglesia por permitir que la gente vea este manto desde tan
cerca.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Me
senté en las bancas de la iglesia, internalizando el ambiente sagrado. La
basílica es tan amplia que tiene cupo para miles de peregrinos que pasan sin
interrupción a diario. Mientras que la arquitectura de la Basílica me recordó a
las iglesias católicas de Europa, la gente con su intensidad apasionada de
devoción me remontó a los templos de la India.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Al
estar viendo a un sacerdote dar misa con la ayuda de dos acólitos, una
procesión de Indios nativos pasó lentamente por el ancho altar con sus
múltiples escalones. Un hombre mayor iba al frente de la procesión. Me fascinó
ver el amor con el que iba cargando una estatua de madera pintada de colores
brillantes de Nuestra Señora. Observando su expresión, no dudé que su diosa que
iba cargando era para él más querida que la sangre de su vida. Vi a una mujer
de rodillas avanzando lentamente a través de la multitud de rodillas hacia
Nuestra Señora. Lágrimas de llanto rodando sobre sus mejillas cubrieron su
rostro inocente al fijar su mirada en los ojos de la Reina de su corazón. En
tal intimidad con Dios no existe el tiempo. La religión antigua de México se
encuentra justo ahí – sólo enmascarada por un semblante cristiano.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<b><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Una Cuna Meciéndose con Mentiras</span></b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Cuando
regresé a mi cuarto en el hotel, me acordé de la voz de la mañana con el
comentario persistente de cómo la influencia occidental en México en los
últimos 500 o más años ha /represado el flujo natural de la sabiduría antigua.
En los tiempos de antes, la gente de México vivía en un mundo sagrado, mágico
de espiritualidad, pero fueron forzados a encajar en el sistema de valores
materialistas occidentales.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Los
conquistadores de México, con el fin de justificar el colonialismo, /acudieron
a rumores y enmascararon la verdad con distorsiones astutas. Si se dice una
mentira con autoridad por suficiente tiempo y lo suficientemente seguido,
arrulla a la gente hasta que la acaban por aceptar como norma. No les es
difícil a los líderes sin compasión hacer que cantidades masivas de gente buena
piensen con estereotipos negativos y se mine la confianza de una nación entera.
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">En
una sociedad materialista, el éxito de la gente se mide por la riqueza que la
persona o el país ha acumulado. El valor se coloca en la educación que lleve a
tener un puesto bien pagado en una comunidad comercial, competitiva en lugar de
en el conocimiento que lleva a la sabiduría. Me acuerdo haber aprendido en mi
escuela acerca de la Era de La Ilustración y la Revolución Industrial, y que el
progreso material significó que las cosas se volverían mejores y mejores. En
otras palabras, nuestra civilización actual debiera ser la más avanzada de
todas.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">La
primera vez que me pregunté acera de los atributos Occidentales fue cuando
visité las cuevas de Ajanta en Maharashtra. Estas salas con pilares parecen
capillas que he visto en Europa --excepto que estas cuevas fueron excavadas en
roca sólida de granito alrededor del año 200 Antes de Cristo. No puedo pensar
en nadie que se tomaría ahora el tiempo para echarse encima un trabajo tal.
¿Podría alguien descifrar cómo construir una ciudad como Machu Picchu hasta
arriba de la cima de una montaña, usando grandes bloques de roca que embonan
perfectamente uno arriba de otro sin usar cemento?</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Viendo
los eventos mundiales de la actualidad, el materialismo es una trayectoria de
choque con la naturaleza. Nuestro conocimiento científico ha trastornado el
ritmo de la naturaleza. ¿Quién puede todavía leer las señales de la naturaleza?
¿Quién puede componer nuestro dilema?</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxIrQ93Qou-anxgxtXGlP3kF6eiJ4uBMU8ypTRwRIGU40leQdDjAVOQgA9Cy-9qglttHC3a31ZAr2jtbsUBGIHvReEzPnkhsKoxB-MUsF9mSAWOUEVFK5mYHBmr1fB0Ya3koengq4yt9H/s1600/the_birth_of_devi_he55%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxIrQ93Qou-anxgxtXGlP3kF6eiJ4uBMU8ypTRwRIGU40leQdDjAVOQgA9Cy-9qglttHC3a31ZAr2jtbsUBGIHvReEzPnkhsKoxB-MUsF9mSAWOUEVFK5mYHBmr1fB0Ya3koengq4yt9H/s1600/the_birth_of_devi_he55%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div>
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Una
antigua historia de la India cuenta de una época cuando hasta los dioses
estaban cansados de pelearse con demonios. En tiempos de problemas, es hora de
que la Antigua Madre se ponga en pie y pelea por nosotros. Cuando los dioses
hombre oyeron que el gran rey demonio Mahishasura se había declarado a sí mismo
señor de los cielos y dictador del universo, se enojaron. Cada uno disparó para
adelante con su frente una luz terrible. Sus rayos se juntaron en un punto, y
lentamente, la concentración brillante de luz tomó forma de diosa madre. Los
dioses le rezaron y la veneraron con alabanza, adornos y armas. “Madre
Victoriosa,” le gritaron, cuando la diosa mató a los demonios y restauró la paz
y la tranquilidad.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Esta
historia de Chandi, la escritura Tántrika famosa de la India, tiene un significado
profundo. Los demonios que hay que matar no están sólo fuera de nosotros,
también residen dentro de nosotros con coraje, codicia y avaricia. Codicia por
más poder y más riqueza es señal de pensamiento materialista. Nunca hay
suficiente dinero, nunca suficiente poder para saciar el deseo humano.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">La
grandeza puede llegarse a olvidar por un tiempo, pero tarde o temprano,
regresa. ¿Va México a ser capaz de revivir sus antiguas tradiciones y hacerlas
relevantes para el presente y el futuro? </span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Han
pasado muchos años desde que visité la Ciudad de México, pero claramente me
acuerdo de la voz que me enseñaba al estilo de los tiempos de antes – en la
situación, no a través de libros. Aprendí sobre la experiencia y estoy
agradecida de que me introdujeron a Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe a través d la
antigua madre Coatlicue. Humildemente le coloqué rojas rosas a sus pies.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Los
dioses están esperando veneración. Hay lugar para todos los dioses y diosas. En
la India hay tantos templos dedicados a las diferentes manifestaciones de la
misma diosa madre. Hay iglesias una junto a otra con templos de la India y mausoleos
Musulmanes. Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa solía decir: “A Dios puede
encontrársele a través de todos los caminos. Todas las religiones son
verdaderas. Los devotos invocan sólo a Dios, pero a través de diferentes
nombres. Le llaman una sola Persona. Dios es uno, pero Sus nombres son muchos.”</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">La
Divina Madre<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="_GoBack"></a> Coatlicue está lista para salirse del museo,
lista para nutrir y proteger a sus niños viviendo en la sagrada tierra de
México. </span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxQ6CZmWrJcH5PEPEdeJf6VEcoYfec0FVEjHSETCg3Nbj6ZeQqQQevxqGjsxLLR9zeeuPWfC9fQk7ygG10J8fT6ZczXdk-lRYIyqb3qkM1RmTIJxeeqzjWcLzY9TklwkztmWXILzm9JA7/s1600/Angel+before+Coatlicue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxQ6CZmWrJcH5PEPEdeJf6VEcoYfec0FVEjHSETCg3Nbj6ZeQqQQevxqGjsxLLR9zeeuPWfC9fQk7ygG10J8fT6ZczXdk-lRYIyqb3qkM1RmTIJxeeqzjWcLzY9TklwkztmWXILzm9JA7/s320/Angel+before+Coatlicue.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">En memoria bendita de Ángel Rodríguez<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><br />
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Traducido
por Patricia Merino Glancy (<a href="mailto:paty.mexico@gmail.com" title="blocked::mailto:paty.mexico@gmail.com"><span style="color: blue;">paty.mexico@gmail.com</span></a>)</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-62590872927109271022011-06-22T17:49:00.002-07:002021-01-26T13:14:03.969-08:00Mexico Rising<div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Gods are Alive and Watching from the Hill</b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Elizabeth U. Harding</div><br />
It is hard to remain silent when the news we get from Mexico is so consistently depressing. This beautiful country is divided by feuding drug cartels that spread fear and chaos. Our Mexican brothers are killing their Mexican brothers and sisters. In the city of Juarez alone 36,000 people have been killed since 2006. Who will stop this violence?<br />
<br />
I have wanted to write an article on Our Lady of Guadalupe and Mexico City for many years but always pushed the project aside for one reason or another. I had been busy writing about Hindu gods and pilgrimages to India. During journeys that took me all over India, I realized that ancient India and ancient Mexico have a lot in common.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5p6ulw6At93AWOzJcMeAI-SQaI_4IXf3YIuktTiazeM-CCaQu-Ru262MpqCRQl1HYETpZO2zesIW5Wcsflh5ULOQpszjU0hCzXcVt3F1GoJ7wyP1jRZXGHOc0XRfh403ptFkUx23AtWqV/s1600/IMG_0036revisedSmall.jpg" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5p6ulw6At93AWOzJcMeAI-SQaI_4IXf3YIuktTiazeM-CCaQu-Ru262MpqCRQl1HYETpZO2zesIW5Wcsflh5ULOQpszjU0hCzXcVt3F1GoJ7wyP1jRZXGHOc0XRfh403ptFkUx23AtWqV/s320/IMG_0036revisedSmall.jpg" true="" width="320" /></a></div>Both countries were home to sophisticated civilizations that used precise measurements for time and for physical space. They lived close to nature and made ritual offerings to propitiate and please their gods. The ancients in India and Mexico were superb mathematicians and astronomers who built temples according to sacred dimensions that, in some instances, are identical. Their giant temples and monuments still stand today bearing witness to a glorious past.<br />
<br />
Both countries were conquered by invaders who plundered their natural resources and, as a result, both countries today are referred to as developing countries, poor nations. <br />
<br />
There is a painful difference, though. In India, past traditions evolved with time yet remained current, and ancient Hindu gods are still being worshipped in an unbroken succession. The plant never lost its roots. Every time India was conquered by a new ruler, Hindus somehow managed to assimilate the god of their conqueror into their existing pantheon. In Mexico, on the other hand, ancient traditions largely stayed in the past and, today, the gods of their forefathers are relegated to museums. <br />
<br />
On my first trip to Mexico City, I woke up early in the morning to a voice talking in my head. Though this is rather unusual, it didn’t seem so at the time. The voice spoke English like a newscaster and, lying on my queen-size bed under crisp, white sheets, I listened to a running commentary on historic and modern times in Mexico gone wrong. I could have switched off this voice, telling myself not to give in to crazy notions like listening to a voice in my head, but I didn’t, because the things the voice said made sense.<br />
<br />
I had come to Mexico City primarily to visit Our Lady of Guadalupe and intended to go to the Basilica straight away. Perhaps the voice in my head was fate deciding otherwise. Circumstances first brought me to the National Museum of Anthropology that houses treasures recovered from the Olmec, Aztec and Mayan civilizations. Some of Mexico’s most powerful gods live there and, sadly, they are referred to as historic.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2VTeleCwQZ3AdqdLMc8UpG1pvb7wmX3HYHxKkBzID6KantMqdY5WIvvxWINTdP82Lg8qtmKan9SemU039W2eNJGeOznTGtF32-FFbJZni0ZVAoqc3Soht-hzZqGlRYLhb0oD0HvFbCvxe/s1600/Tlaloc.jpg" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2VTeleCwQZ3AdqdLMc8UpG1pvb7wmX3HYHxKkBzID6KantMqdY5WIvvxWINTdP82Lg8qtmKan9SemU039W2eNJGeOznTGtF32-FFbJZni0ZVAoqc3Soht-hzZqGlRYLhb0oD0HvFbCvxe/s320/Tlaloc.jpg" true="" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The first god I encountered was Tlaloc, the Aztec god of water and of rain, who stands as a gigantic statue over a fountain near the museum entrance. I had heard a story that, true to his name, Tlaloc produced an unseasonable heavy rainstorm that hit Mexico City when his statue was excavated and brought to its current location.<br />
<br />
Looking up at the massive statue, I rubbed my head to get rid of a throbbing headache probably due to being unaccustomed to the city’s high altitude. Some birds nearby happily dipped their heads into the fountain’s green water and splashed around as if to invite me to do likewise. Just then I remembered a Christian priest in the U.S. telling me that Tlaloc is another form of the Indian god Indra and that his waters have healing powers. I splashed some fountain water on my head and neck and immediately felt refreshed. My headache left me after some time.<br />
<br />
I had been under the impression that all of Mexico was poor and backward. Though poverty exists, Mexico City certainly is not backward. I saw a beautiful city with lush trees lining wide avenues and dignified people walking along sidewalks past chic stores and cafes. <br />
<br />
The National Museum of Anthropology is one of the finest museums I have seen – better than the museums in Vienna, a city famous for preserving art and historic treasures. Upon entering, one walks out into a patio that is surrounded by exhibition halls featuring Mayan, Olmec and Aztec artifacts. I passed an interesting fountain shaped like a huge umbrella from which water is dripping and cascading to the ground. <br />
<br />
Outside the spacious hall with the Aztec exhibit is a model of Teotihuacan, an ancient city that contains some of the largest pyramids built in the pre-Columbian Americas. The inhabitants must have kept God in the center of their lives and activities to build their city around pyramids and temples.<br />
<br />
As I walked over the beautifully inlaid marble floor of the Aztec exhibit hall, I wondered what visitors would do if all these gods and goddesses would come alive. I passed a tour group huddled before the perhaps most famous artifact in the museum – the round Aztec Sun Stone, a calendar which consists of a 365-day solar agricultural calendar cycle and a 260-day sacred ritual cycle. Today, people wear this beautiful Aztec calendar on their T-shirts but hardly know its significance. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Coatlicue, Mother of Gods</b></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJGDWxgKnDI8DUzecOA7YNbCApsPC-wiVr1aDlnEkumtg7zqMEiSKsI9bx9ACS38N2k-v7UOS2VawPNVhPRYfd7bjiJUWomfilN-PZYjPMgcVl_XaInFQYoJv7er_mfyfPIH9i0HO4HyZ/s1600/Coatlicue.jpg" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJGDWxgKnDI8DUzecOA7YNbCApsPC-wiVr1aDlnEkumtg7zqMEiSKsI9bx9ACS38N2k-v7UOS2VawPNVhPRYfd7bjiJUWomfilN-PZYjPMgcVl_XaInFQYoJv7er_mfyfPIH9i0HO4HyZ/s320/Coatlicue.jpg" true="" width="214" /></a>Looking past historic artifacts, a giant monolithic statue on the other side of the hall caught my eye. I stood in awe when I reached the colossal figure of Coatlicue, the mother of Aztec gods and celestial bodies. She is a powerful representation of Mother Earth who gives life and, when the time comes, takes it back into herself. She is decorated with skulls, wears a garland of human hearts and a skirt of squirming serpents. In the native Nahuatl language “Coatlicue” means “the one with the skirt of serpents.”</div><br />
Coatlicue’s appearance could be described as terrifying but, to me, it was familiar because for so many years I have been worshipping the Hindu goddess Kali. My Divine Mother Kali is the power of time that devours everything. She creates and she destroys. Awed to find my Divine Mother in Mexico City, I knelt on the museum marble floor and bowed before Coatlicue. <br />
<br />
Just then I heard a booming voice behind me calling out, “Thank you, thank you!” Suddenly, a man in uniform pulled up in a wheelchair next to me. “I am glad that you pay respect to our goddess,” said Angel Rodriguez, a guide from the tourist office. <br />
<br />
He went on to explain that Coatlicue represents the creative power of Mother Earth as well as the three planes of the universe: heaven, earth and the underworld. From her neck upward, she represents heaven. Instead of a head, Coatlicue has two emerging serpents that symbolize the dual nature of life and her role as creator/destroyer.<br />
<br />
According to Angel, Aztecs believe that all things originated from duality, from the feminine and masculine. The Aztecs also had a god of duality whose name is Ometecutli that means in the Nahuatl language “two in one and one in two.”<br />
<br />
To Hindus, the Shiva/Shakti (male/female) principle is of utmost importance. The goddess Kali symbolizes duality through her four arms. Her right hands promise fearlessness and give boons while her left hands hold a bloody sword and a severed demon head. One could call her right arms good and the left ones bad but, in reality, she is beyond good and bad just like the sun can’t be called good or bad. Sunshine gives us life but can also scorch us. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirqYTrOWfWYTZqFcIikRLWPcn2tUw4hs-6AyYr20IWj3miBiDU88CViDxXzi4Z4y551xpwuJHFdkqGNvQciTMGdaQpAS0hOnfPxRWncicA90sSHZutDQQiCVsNBgzJTpUyE9YXGALmvvbH/s1600/Smashan+Kali+%2528web%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirqYTrOWfWYTZqFcIikRLWPcn2tUw4hs-6AyYr20IWj3miBiDU88CViDxXzi4Z4y551xpwuJHFdkqGNvQciTMGdaQpAS0hOnfPxRWncicA90sSHZutDQQiCVsNBgzJTpUyE9YXGALmvvbH/s320/Smashan+Kali+%2528web%2529.jpg" true="" width="246" /></a></div>Kali’s color is a deep bluish-black, and she stands on the prostrate body of her consort Shiva whose complexion is pure white. She is the visible manifestation of his power. Without her, Shiva cannot manifest, and without him, Kali cannot exist. Shiva and Shakti are eternally united.<br />
<br />
Angel quite actively moved around considering that he was in a wheelchair. I could get a glimpse of his passionate devotion to this ancient mother goddess watching him and listening to him as he pointed to different parts of this majestic Aztec goddess.<br />
<br />
“From the neck to her skirt of snakes, Coatlicue manifests Earth,” said Angel. “We see her arms turn into serpents. The serpent in old Mexico represents the reproductive power of Mother Earth. On the neck, she has a necklace of hands and human hearts.<br />
<br />
The heart, according to Aztecs, is the center of Man, religion and love. It is the beating pulse of life. Sacrificing the heart meant liberation of life blood, leaving the seed of life to germinate. Coatlicue’s hands are representative of giving life.<br />
<br />
Her stomach is a symbol of death, hence the representation of a large skull. “When we die, we all go back to the womb of Mother Earth,” said Angel. <br />
<br />
In Hindu iconography, skulls are also present in the more fierce gods and goddesses. Ma Kali wears a garland of 50 skulls representing the fifty letters of the alphabet which are the written form of sound from which, Hindus believe, all creation evolved. One friend once pointed out that the skulls around Ma Kali’s neck seem to be smiling. The skulls also symbolize our egos. When Ma cuts our ego, all tension is gone. Ma Kali wears a skirt of severed arms that represent our actions. While we are entitled to work, the result of our work belongs to her.<br />
<br />
The middle portion of Coatlicue’s body from her skirt down to her feet represents the underworld. Her feet are eagle claws that can dig into the earth and aid in agriculture. Underneath her serpent skirt, out of the maternal uterus, comes a serpent giving birth to the sun god named Huitzilopochtli.<br />
<br />
According to the legend, Coatlicue was sweeping on top of Coatepec, a mountain of serpents, when she found a package of feathers. She hid the feathers under her skirt and shortly after found that she was pregnant with Huitzilopochtli. Her daughter, the moon, and her sons, the 400 stars of the south, became jealous and decapitated her. But she did not die because Huitzilopochtli protected her. Born a fully-grown man in a magical birth, Huitzilopochtli in warrior mode decapitated Coyolxauhqui, the moon, and cut off her arms and legs – hence the moon is round. <br />
<br />
“The sun takes over the moon in order to give life to Mother Earth,” said Angel. “Light overcomes darkness.”<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_YK8Vfh8qZyi9hX06mbwt19su_ya4ARKz1zkD7GifIOb00MSlojD07FBTQGoVu3vfax5-jsEgWKgOw6MXpEKwQjSV08MxrooceXURVRh8RDjI4c8nPPXlgJQa33Yv1aoZbDjoMyR-00_v/s1600/P1010004.JPG" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_YK8Vfh8qZyi9hX06mbwt19su_ya4ARKz1zkD7GifIOb00MSlojD07FBTQGoVu3vfax5-jsEgWKgOw6MXpEKwQjSV08MxrooceXURVRh8RDjI4c8nPPXlgJQa33Yv1aoZbDjoMyR-00_v/s320/P1010004.JPG" true="" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium;">Angel took me behind the statue of Coatlicue and pointed to a stone leaning against the pedestal the goddess stands on. This stone, which encompasses the soles of Coatlicue’s feet, depicts a fourth universal plane – heaven, earth and the underworld being the other three. It depicts the union of Tlaloc, the god of water and rain, and Tlaltecutli, a sea serpent that is an embodiment of raging chaos before creation. Between them, a round shield and a square within portrays the Earth with its four cardinal points of north, south, east and west. The Earth, also represented by Tlali, Chimalma and Tonantzin, is shown within as a circle. </div><br />
“Long before Europeans, the ancient people of Mexico had the knowledge that the earth was round,” said Angel.<br />
<br />
I asked, “What happened? Why do people in Mexico no longer worship Coatlicue?”<br />
<br />
“We’ve passed through a transition from a pre-Hispanic to the modern era,” said Angel. “After Coatlicue, the mother of Aztec gods, came Chimalma, the circular Earth, then Tonantzin, mother of gods and humans and then the Virgin of Guadalupe.”<br />
<br />
I was busy taking photographs of Coatlicue. The museum kindly allows photography provided one does not use flash. When I turned around, Angel was gone. He was gone so abruptly that I questioned in my mind whether he was real or not. Was he a physical form of the voice in my head I heard in the morning? He came quickly, gave me wise explanations, and then, he was gone.<br />
<br />
I would have liked to ask him more about the goddess Tonantzin who used to be worshipped on the hill of Tepeyac where Our Lady of Guadalupe first appeared. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Teotihuacan, Birthplace of Gods</b></div><br />
Although I had the best intentions to go straight to the Basilica of Our Lady, fate had other plans. I was taken outside Mexico City to Teotihuacan, a vast archeological site with a soaring sun pyramid and a huge moon pyramid linked by the wide Avenue of the Dead.<br />
<br />
Some scholars estimate that this city may have been established around 100 BC and that by the fourth century some 200,000 people lived there. The city covers nearly eight square miles and was larger and more advanced than any European city of the time. <br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl1f1LYqUcl5cHtJhkQ4FIuFb5IeK14CHB_NFHulNjxtEgqjKlXRzQH55e3txzsQgPTCLt8eppMcfRVbmt8G73S1ZkBtNjUoRHPOm_LooqtNCdadkceJP1FLQYZcyjqCR1nIGfhMvTwusP/s1600/Teotihuacan.jpg" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl1f1LYqUcl5cHtJhkQ4FIuFb5IeK14CHB_NFHulNjxtEgqjKlXRzQH55e3txzsQgPTCLt8eppMcfRVbmt8G73S1ZkBtNjUoRHPOm_LooqtNCdadkceJP1FLQYZcyjqCR1nIGfhMvTwusP/s320/Teotihuacan.jpg" true="" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Still, to this day, Teotihuacan is shrouded in mystery, and nobody truly knows who founded this city – be they the Totonacs, Otomi, Zapotec, Mixtec, Maya or Nahua peoples. Archeologists also found influences from the Olmecs and Toltecs. During the time of the Aztecs, Teotihuacan was a place of pilgrimage, the place where the sun was born.<br />
<br />
The Pyramid of the Sun is gigantic – 738 feet at the base on each side and 207 feet high. When one looks up, one sees people on top appearing small like ants. I decided to climb up the steep ancient steps to the top of the pyramid. It was strenuous, and I sometimes had to pull myself up on a rope strung perpendicular to the steps, but it was definitely worth it. The view from the top is awesome, and I felt that I was sitting on a spiritual vortex that could blast me into the vast universe at any time.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the uppermost portion of the pyramid had been destroyed. Today, one can only imagine what a temple at the top of the sun pyramid must have looked like – columns with colorful paintings on the walls; priests in ornate head dresses running up and down the steps with offerings to the gods.<br />
<br />
When one hears about Aztec rituals, one is told about human blood sacrifice. Not only Aztecs performed blood sacrifice in the ancient world. The Bible refers to blood sacrifices, and there are reports of isolated cases of human sacrifice in ancient India. Today, some Indian temples still perform animal sacrifice, offering goats or sheep to the goddess, but that is not common. Most people in modern India prefer to worship the goddess with red hibiscus flowers or red roses in lieu of blood. <br />
<br />
History calls the Aztecs barbaric and bloodthirsty because they performed human sacrifice in order to worship their gods. There is little else known about their rituals besides ripping out human hearts and filling stone tubs full of blood. Surely, there must have been many other aspects to Aztec rituals.<br />
<br />
If I could go back in time and look at things through Aztec eyes, I would probably call Europeans of that age bloodthirsty and barbaric. Aztecs killed people to offer the most precious gift, namely human life, to propitiate and please their gods. Europeans, on the other hand, killed Aztecs for power and material gain.<br />
<br />
When the ancient Divine Mother goddess could no longer bear to see her indigenous children killed, she stepped in.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Our Lady of Guadalupe, Savior of Indigenous People</b></div><br />
I left the holy grounds of Teotihuacan and was finally en route to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Queen of Mexico and the Empress of the Americas. I came on pilgrimage to pay my obeisance to her likeness on a miraculous cloth that hangs in her temple. Truly, the appearance of Our Lady of Guadalupe ten years after the fall of Mexico City was miraculous.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ODFqBl9CyxmInw1JuWwOUp8Xs0JgnRCaoFJz1znkBqCMumq2FhlDD7bH3c51mgVlzvp7Z3XaP2xXSfc1Dg7B-bfbUNzhpYPeHaAU9bZz_RrMDWN9fxx2LQH775bvO6Mkj2L3n3F0WVor/s1600/ScanSmall.jpg" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ODFqBl9CyxmInw1JuWwOUp8Xs0JgnRCaoFJz1znkBqCMumq2FhlDD7bH3c51mgVlzvp7Z3XaP2xXSfc1Dg7B-bfbUNzhpYPeHaAU9bZz_RrMDWN9fxx2LQH775bvO6Mkj2L3n3F0WVor/s320/ScanSmall.jpg" true="" width="200" /></a>The legend tells of Saint Juan Diego, a poor Indian native of Cuautitlan, who walked on a cold December morning past the Tepeyac Hill. He saw a beautiful lady standing on top of the hill. Speaking to him in Nahuatl, the holy Lady revealed to Juan Diego that she was the Divine Mother of God. She asked him to go to the bishop in the city and tell him to build a temple for her on this hill. Juan Diego followed her command and, although he managed to gain an audience with the Spanish Archbishop, the bishop did not believe his story.</div><br />
On his way back, Juan Diego passed the Tepeyac Hill and again saw the holy Lady standing there. She told him to go back the following day and tell the bishop to build a temple for her on this hill. The second time Juan Diego came before the bishop, he was again met with disbelief. He dreaded to walk home past the Hill of Tepeyac.<br />
<br />
When the Divine Lady appeared to him once more, Juan Diego plaintively asked her not to request him to see the bishop again. He pleaded that it was impossible to convince the bishop. The Lady smiled and commanded Juan Diego to climb up Tepeyac Hill and gather the Castilian roses blooming there and bring them to the bishop as proof. To his surprise, Juan Diego found roses blooming out of season on top of the hill.<br />
<br />
Juan Diego went back to the bishop and, as instructed by the holy Lady, opened his poncho to hand over the Castilian roses. To everyone’s surprise, an imprint of the holy Lady of Tepeyac was clearly marked on the rough cloth of cactus fibers on Juan Diego’s poncho. This was enough proof for the bishop, and he fell to his knees. The holy Lady who spoke in Nahuatl to Juan Diego calling herself “Coatlaxopeuh” (or Coatlicue?) was renamed by the bishop “Our Lady of Guadalupe” after a Spanish town that was similar in sound. <br />
<br />
A chapel dedicated to the Virgin was built on Tepeyac Hill over the ruins of a temple to the Aztec mother goddess Tonantzin. The miraculous image of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the cloth appealed to both conquerors and conquered. The Spanish saw an image of the Holy Mary, but indigenous Indians in Mexico saw the brown-skinned image of Tonantzin and, thereby, stopped resisting conversion to Christianity. This saved the lives of so many local people who previously resisted.<br />
<br />
The color and form on this divine cloth has not faded since the 1500s. I stood in awe in front of the Divine Mother, grateful to church authorities who permit people to view this cloth from such close proximity. <br />
<br />
I sat down in the pews, taking in the holy atmosphere. The Basilica is so spacious that it can accommodate thousands of pilgrims that stream in daily. While the Basilica’s architecture reminded me to modern Catholic churches in Europe, the people with their passionate intensity of devotion took me back to the temples in India.<br />
<br />
As I watched a priest perform mass assisted by a couple of altar boys, a procession of native Indians slowly passed the wide altar with its multiple steps. An old man was leading the procession, and I was fascinated by the loving way he carried a brightly-painted wooden statue of Our Lady. Watching his demeanor, I did not doubt that the goddess he was carrying was dearer to him than his life’s blood. I saw a woman moving slowly through the crowd on her knees toward Our Lady. Big tears flowed down the cheeks of her guileless face as she fixed her eyes on the Queen of her heart. Such intimacy with God is timeless. The ancient religion of Mexico is there – just masked by a Christian face.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>A Rocking Cradle of Lies</b></div><br />
When I got back to my hotel room, I remembered the voice in the morning with its running commentary on how Western influence on Mexico for the last 500 some years had stemmed the natural flow of ancient wisdom. In olden days, the people of Mexico lived in a magical, sacred world of spirituality, but they were forced into a Western materialistic value system.<br />
<br />
Mexico’s conquerors, in order to justify colonialism, resorted to rumors and masked the truth with clever distortions. If a lie is told with authority long enough and often enough, people will be lulled into accepting it as the norm. It is not hard for ruthless leaders to get masses of good people thinking in negative stereotypes and to undermine the confidence of an entire nation.<br />
<br />
In a materialistic society, people measure success by how much wealth a person or a country has accumulated. Value is placed on education that leads to a well-paying job in a competitive business community rather than on knowledge that leads to wisdom. I remember learning in school about the Age of Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution and that material progress meant that things will get better and better. In other words, our civilization today should be the most advanced one. <br />
<br />
The first time I began to wonder about Western claims was when I visited the caves of Ajanta in Maharashtra, India. These pillared halls resembled chapels I had seen in Europe -- except that these caves had been carved into solid granite rock around 200 BC. I can’t think of anyone today who would take the time to undertake such a work. Could anyone today figure out how to build a city like Machu Picchu high on a mountaintop using big boulders of rock that perfectly fit on top of each other without using cement? <br />
<br />
Looking at world events right now, materialism is on a collision course with nature. Our scientific knowledge has disturbed the rhythm of nature. Who can still read the signs of nature? Who can fix our dilemma?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-color: currentcolor; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-style: none; border-top: medium none; border-width: medium; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xetcHRDf_MGQPyfLuXsjgaSl1xWOm23Jteq9YnFjzVdnHQaVgEglc1IENnjOFPlabxv4FVFrNQsrVaogeJHNMw4qqieFDlWumEq0ayHNRB8g1FpNe0gyAq_ltLhBZ_2EmE_PsTRimpdx/s1600/the_birth_of_devi_he55%255B1%255D.jpg" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xetcHRDf_MGQPyfLuXsjgaSl1xWOm23Jteq9YnFjzVdnHQaVgEglc1IENnjOFPlabxv4FVFrNQsrVaogeJHNMw4qqieFDlWumEq0ayHNRB8g1FpNe0gyAq_ltLhBZ_2EmE_PsTRimpdx/s320/the_birth_of_devi_he55%255B1%255D.jpg" true="" width="320" /></a></div>An ancient story in India tells of a time when even the gods were exhausted from warring with demons. In times of trouble, it is time for the Ancient Mother to stand up and fight for us. When the male gods heard that the great demon king Mahishasura had declared himself lord of heaven and ruler of the universe, they got angry. Each god shot forth a terrible light coming from his forehead. Their rays joined at one point, and slowly, the blazing concentration of light took shape in the form of a mother goddess. The gods prayed to her and worshipped her with praise, ornaments and weapons. “Victory to the Mother,” they shouted as the goddess killed the demons and restored peace and tranquility.<br />
<br />
This story from the Chandi, India’s famous Tantric scripture, has a deep meaning. The demons to be killed are not only outside ourselves, they also reside within us as anger, lust and greed. Lust for more power and more wealth is a sign of materialistic thought. There never is enough money, never enough power to satiate human desire.<br />
<br />
Greatness may be forgotten for some time but, sooner or later, it will rebound. Will Mexico be able to revive its ancient traditions and make them relevant for the present and future? <br />
<br />
Many years have gone by since I first visited Mexico City, but I still clearly remember the voice that taught me the ancient way – by situation rather than through books. I learned through experience and am grateful that I was introduced to Our Lady of Guadalupe through the ancient mother Coatlicue. I humbly place red roses at her feet.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
The gods are waiting for worship. There is room for all gods and goddesses. In India are so many temples dedicated to different manifestations of the same mother goddess. Churches exist side by side with Hindu temples and Muslim mosques. Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa used to say: “God can be realized through all paths. All religions are true. Devotees call on God alone, though by different names. They call one Person only. God is one, but His names are many.”<br />
<br />
The Divine Mother Coatlicue is ready to come out of the museum, ready to nurture and protect her children living in the holy land of Mexico.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqMUtAsvGjPdqFkpp1zDq3We-vvNH5dnT3nQkmhLpG6SjG61SWQ1uvM-nQXurXjLFvthDJd82ZkZjT2NIoEilz1wW8lqmFReSuX5-ZqrL6srCanK1lUqqxJUkOzFtrDuYpSlE1M9g16TW/s1600/Angel+before+Coatlicue.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqMUtAsvGjPdqFkpp1zDq3We-vvNH5dnT3nQkmhLpG6SjG61SWQ1uvM-nQXurXjLFvthDJd82ZkZjT2NIoEilz1wW8lqmFReSuX5-ZqrL6srCanK1lUqqxJUkOzFtrDuYpSlE1M9g16TW/s320/Angel+before+Coatlicue.jpg" true="" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In loving memory of Angel Rodriguez</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-68125921238774623582011-03-27T22:56:00.000-07:002011-03-28T17:21:30.452-07:00Reminiscences of Swami Gambhirananda<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwv-njM_ftynz4yeNalQWA9ex8GDi32U-eT5ETLs0pOg3SzJPITO_fiMNmPsMNY5GLWjbYtHpTh1SKFA_n6r-AaGzxznUXdgWmlce9DZfOhRSPTFdQSiWhpBvIcvxxmSDaIiYiUopXacHy/s1600/Swami+G.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwv-njM_ftynz4yeNalQWA9ex8GDi32U-eT5ETLs0pOg3SzJPITO_fiMNmPsMNY5GLWjbYtHpTh1SKFA_n6r-AaGzxznUXdgWmlce9DZfOhRSPTFdQSiWhpBvIcvxxmSDaIiYiUopXacHy/s320/Swami+G.jpg" width="221" /></a></div><br />
I started going to the Hollywood Vedanta Society in the fall of 1970 and, although I visited the temple fairly regularly, I kept mostly to myself. As a result, I had little to no information about special temple events or visiting VIP guests. My attendance depended on my intuition and the call of Sri Ramakrishna whom I trusted would surely get me in touch with whoever I was supposed to meet.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">One sunny day in 1972, I saw revered Swami Gambhiranandaji walk across the temple courtyard. Being a novice spiritual aspirant, I kept to the back and watched the crowd of monastics and devotees greet the revered guest Swami. I overheard Swami Chetanananda, who was then the assistant minister there, saying to a group of devotees standing nearby: “If you want to get close to a real holy man, you try to get close to Swami Gambhirananda.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Q3w71s2Lq-9hWBofkfVuFYQWJ4pLw6ShbfrP3YWlYKg3-ZOrvxwKI7a8ZxqLv187IQlB3G7S3HN4rg-RNnrLljlz5F9Jj1QyM6LGlyayK8n4J8JcZ9o-l_9LDvft7W_Jg-2o6Kc2IO5C/s1600/Belur+Math+from+the+Ganga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Q3w71s2Lq-9hWBofkfVuFYQWJ4pLw6ShbfrP3YWlYKg3-ZOrvxwKI7a8ZxqLv187IQlB3G7S3HN4rg-RNnrLljlz5F9Jj1QyM6LGlyayK8n4J8JcZ9o-l_9LDvft7W_Jg-2o6Kc2IO5C/s320/Belur+Math+from+the+Ganga.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I watched Swami Gambhirananda walk tall right past me and, although I, too, wanted to get close to him, I did not dare to do so. Swami Chetanananda’s words to the group of devotees burned in my mind for days after. I tried to see Swami Gambhirananda again but heard that he had left Hollywood. What to do? Since I really wanted to get close to this holy man, I started writing to him at the Belur Math address.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Right from the start, I never addressed him as Swami in my letters. I always wrote: dear Father. He never corrected me. I wrote to him every three months or so and also sent a little money as an offering. Without fail, he always replied. At first, his letters were very formal. While I addressed him as “dear Father,” he addressed me as “Dear Elizabeth Harding.” I knew that Swami had very bad eye sight and did not write himself, but his various attendants would not have written in such a formal way had he not dictated the letters in this style.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">In the ‘80s, Swami Gambhirananda’s letters to me got less formal, and he addressed me as “My dear Elizabeth.” I remember how excited I was to receive his letters. I would hold his letter, turn it from side to side and, with great relish, anticipate the blessings contained within. He never let me down. Reading his letters, I literally would feel his love and blessings pouring out toward me. “I pray that the Divine Mother may graciously help you achieve your spiritual aspirations and let you gain inner strength to cope with the vagaries of the world,” Swami Gambhirananda wrote in one of his letters, adding “You have my blessings, too.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjCtsKaRG9tXcH9mJkkf-wsZoex4xJTKZlUdorJTtC5Oe0hB2XHq7Tjy7jf-xYMhrP3vJxU5Tkw8JKe1ggeJi1D0wSQoBjk6_hER7cEM2uyPj8vwIfTjUq4nH6iF7kCzQI0odYRSsgo7p/s1600/seated+in+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjCtsKaRG9tXcH9mJkkf-wsZoex4xJTKZlUdorJTtC5Oe0hB2XHq7Tjy7jf-xYMhrP3vJxU5Tkw8JKe1ggeJi1D0wSQoBjk6_hER7cEM2uyPj8vwIfTjUq4nH6iF7kCzQI0odYRSsgo7p/s320/seated+in+chair.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>When Swami Gambhirananda stayed at Morabadi, I once wrote a letter to him full of despair. He replied: “I hope you realize that true peace can only come by surrendering to the Divine within us. The world will always go on in its own way. There can never be any permanent solution to problems created by human nature.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">In 1986 I visited India for the first time. The experience of India was much richer than I had ever anticipated. I met Swami Gambhirananda again in person after so many years, but this time, I did not stay in the back. It was like seeing my dear father again after many, many years. Although my eyes saw him looking stern, my heart felt his by now familiar love. I was not shy and felt free around him like a child feels sitting next to dad. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cx4lRxeq5otu1ELXrEaxXXROI9KBPxCsCSWMyTsyVeoxgmdXrGXx94fc1cBi3VGRSQ8Eb4Sy4Wh1Q2GIDb-oI2qpLBTr9ACCeoFiGCYrW87zBq7wbew735-mZ1zX-dA8R8vCgTv1aP-v/s1600/Swami+laughing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Every evening I would go for darshan to his quarters, and he would always lovingly ask: “What did you do today?” Then he would patiently listen to all my ramblings about what I did and thought that day. He especially wanted to hear all about my adventures at the Dakshineswar Kali temple. He wanted to know even minute details. How long did I stay in the inner shrine, how much dakshina did I give to the priests, when did I go to Dakshineswar and when did I return and how.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">I am convinced that Swami Gambhirananda’s blessings made it possible for me to spend much time at the Dakshineswar Kali temple. He handed me a golden key as it were to the inner shrine of Kali. Like the priests there, I could go in and out from Ma’s sanctum. I wasn’t a foreigner. I was home. Moreover, I took a series of photographs of Ma Bhavatarini that later on led me to write the book “Kali, the Black Goddess of Dakshineswar.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBtkMQVjXQf45PYqGk9qHScP3gk5WmlPMUPyMJDsxJdtKb1QSXCQQyNSOgbqJjDoFG0tnQMe5CT7vl69DQRuPpzorYU4oOl5euz63Y678-PHyGAc82074Y016JIFdeX0fkUH3ZGuc4Oilb/s1600/Ma-Bhavatarini-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBtkMQVjXQf45PYqGk9qHScP3gk5WmlPMUPyMJDsxJdtKb1QSXCQQyNSOgbqJjDoFG0tnQMe5CT7vl69DQRuPpzorYU4oOl5euz63Y678-PHyGAc82074Y016JIFdeX0fkUH3ZGuc4Oilb/s320/Ma-Bhavatarini-web.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>When I sent one of the photos I had taken to Swami Gambhirananda, he replied: “Thank you for the picture of Kali. Though I could not myself see the details, I was told that it is one of the best pictures taken of the Mother at Dakshineswar.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Swami had the photo framed and hung it in his bedroom. When Swami Bhuteshananda moved into this room after Swami Gambhirananda’s passing, he kept this photo of Ma Bhavatarini on the wall.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Swami Gambhirananda had a lot to do with getting me started on writing a book on Ma Kali. Originally, I had wanted to give my photos of Ma Bhavatarini to Belur Math and ask Swami Bhajananandaji to write a book on the Divine Mother. After Swami Gambhirananda asked Swami Bhajanananda twice to talk to me and got a negative reply, Swami Gambhirananda said to me: “You write the book on Kali.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">I had never written a book before. Although I had written numerous articles and was trained as a journalist, the thought of writing a book was scary. I returned to America , and somehow Swami’s strength had entered into me and his words had struck a cord in my heart. How could I fail when I received so many blessings?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I hope that you succeed in your plans to complete and publish the book on Mother Kali,” wrote Swami Gambhirananda in one of his letter to me. “May you receive in abundance the grace of Mother Kali and Sri Ramakrishna to reach the fountain of all bliss and peace.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I returned to India in 1987 and, with great joy, sat again at revered Swami Gambhiranandaji’s feet. He taught me so many things even when he was not directly talking to me. I used to love sitting on the bench outside his room. Swami’s kind attendants let me be and did not chase me away. Sitting there on the bench I could feel the presence of Swami Gambhirananda. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">One hot afternoon, I was sitting on this bench watching swarms of mosquitos buzzing around my body. I thought: what if a mosquito lands on my knee, will the stinger go through the sari? What if a mosquito lands on my face, how bad will it sting? What if a mosquito flies at my neck, could it crawl under my chadder? Some time went by, and I was very busy working out “what if scenarios.” All of a sudden, I heard Swami’s voice coming from somewhere inside me, saying: “Stop it. Stop thinking about what might happen! Think of God alone.” Lost in the thought of God, it does not matter if a mosquito stings or not.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">I asked Swami Gambhirananda once about seeing Sri Ramakrishna seated in my heart. “Swami, how does Thakur sit in my heart?,” I asked. “Does he face me?”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKh7n1aiTkOQcSrR68qkaDUBzSh11Edq7Bsn9DYRMnZgxPp8FhfAflvN3-HkFN4ub_qc1h7UNQu_ztVxCKtAX9FZujYvxGabTGnP0IWYmL3j6_rdWpnVCc9oymOliXUs23UYTFyKP3lLJ/s1600/Thakur+for+Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKh7n1aiTkOQcSrR68qkaDUBzSh11Edq7Bsn9DYRMnZgxPp8FhfAflvN3-HkFN4ub_qc1h7UNQu_ztVxCKtAX9FZujYvxGabTGnP0IWYmL3j6_rdWpnVCc9oymOliXUs23UYTFyKP3lLJ/s320/Thakur+for+Web.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">“No, he looks in the same direction you are looking,” said Swami Gambhirananda with great conviction. After a while he added,” Don’t think about it so literally.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Although I felt I knew Swami Gambhirananda with my heart, I knew little about his personal habits. I am very grateful to his attendants who sometimes explained Swami’s actions to me. I am especially indebted to Swami Atmaramananda for his untiring patience and kindness toward me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">One day as I was sitting at Swami Gambhirananda’s feet, he suddenly reached out and with great precision placed his hand on my head. He held it there for a long time. I was delighted and took it as a token of affection he extends to all visitors. Later on Swami Atmaramanandaji explained to me that this moment was truly special because Swami Gambhirananda rarely showed open affection.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Swami Gambhirananda liked to tease me. Once he asked me: “Who are you? Are you Elizabeth or are you Usha or are you Miss Harding?” I looked at his noble face, and immediately it flashed across my mind. I said, “I’m the Atman, Maharaj.” He clapped his hands and laughed. “Look, look, how quickly she replied,” he said.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One morning after mangal arati, I hid behind some bushes in the monastery near Swami Brahmananda’s temple. I wanted to take photographs of Swami Gambhirananda taking his morning walk. I knew that he wouldn’t see me. His attendants saw me hiding behind bushes but kindly did not mention it and walked past me. When I came for evening darshan that day, Swami Gambhirananda said to me: “I heard some clicking this morning during my morning walk. Did you take photos?” I sheepishly replied: “Yes.” Swami threw his head back and laughed, saying, “You break all our rules.” But since he laughed so heartily, I didn’t take it as a scolding.</div><div class="MsoNormal">When visiting a holy man, it’s auspicious to bring a gift. Following this custom, I always brought fruit, flowers or sweets when I visited Swami Gambhirananda. One day I was late for my appointment with the Swami. I had bought very nice grapes for him but I didn’t get a chance to wash them. So I quickly ran to Swami’s quarters, the grapes still wrapped in a newspaper. As soon as I pranamed to him, Swami Gambhirananda said to me: “What have you brought for me today?” I told him that there were grapes in the package. He held out his hands saying,” Give them to me.” I replied that I’ll give them to his attendant who could serve them nicely later on. Swami insisted. He held out his hands and said that the Indian way was to hand the fruit to him. When I handed him the bunch of grapes wrapped in newspaper, to my horror he began eating the unwashed grapes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Swami, please don’t eat these grapes,” I protested, feeling bad. “They are not washed. You may get sick.” Swami Gambhirananda smiled and said: “The Indian way is to put fruit directly into my hand.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">From then on, I always put everything I brought for him directly into his hand. I was also careful not to be late so that I could have plenty of time to wash the fruit I brought. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHqX1CRhgt5bvgZOohkNgBLeLRB7DquEMpcIYQbJA12bXCogv97AkPGJGFnOF6TZbYUy6_hbf8jnKDjOKKN_90ljWrywZ9Kb6Qo6U7rvOPMa0O9PicYlRfndrORgqARUM8qDqwzJU2z_q/s1600/24-bit+color.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHqX1CRhgt5bvgZOohkNgBLeLRB7DquEMpcIYQbJA12bXCogv97AkPGJGFnOF6TZbYUy6_hbf8jnKDjOKKN_90ljWrywZ9Kb6Qo6U7rvOPMa0O9PicYlRfndrORgqARUM8qDqwzJU2z_q/s320/24-bit+color.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I visited Swami one day when I was quite sick. Swami Gambhirananda with a very loud voice kept repeating: “May you live a long life. May you live a long life. May you live a long life.” It was as if he was chasing my sickness away in order to assure that I’ll live long.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Swami Gambhirananda knew that I was concerned about his life. When I pranamed to his holy feet at Belur Math in 1987 about to leave for America, Swami Gambhirananda leaned forward and said: “Don’t worry, I will not die. I will wait until you come back.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In September 1988 Swami Gambhirananda wrote what was to be his last letter to me. “During the first part of the present tour I managed to have a few pages of your writing on Kali read out to me. I hope you will be able to complete the work soon and get it published. May the Mother be pleased to bring success to your persistent efforts.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I became very restless in October of the same year. Ma Kali’s eyes were haunting me, drawing my mind to Kolkata. I wanted to go to India. When I finally couldn’t stand it any longer by November, I booked a ticket to Kolkata. A few days before departing the U.S., I bought a video camera. Day and night I kept thinking that I wanted to take a close up of Ma Kali’s eyes – zoom deep into Her beautiful eyes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Since there was not much time to learn how to use the video camera, I decided to study the manual on the plane to India. I arrived at Belur Math on December 24 and heard that Swami Gambhirananda was to arrive from one of his tours in the morning. I was looking forward to seeing him again and be at his quarters to receive him. So I sat on the bench in front of his room. One of the Swamis at President Maharaj’ quarters got upset with me for sitting there and asked me to leave. I begged him to let me stay for a while, and when I saw that he was really getting irritated, I consented to leave. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I was about to walk outside, Swami Gambhirananda’s car pulled up. The Swami who had asked me to leave now told me to stay. “Now you will have to wait until Swami Gambhiranandaji has walked to his room. You can’t be in his way,” he said. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was happy. I quietly sat back down on the bench. Swami Gambhirananda was being helped out of the car. I will never forget this scene. One attendant was leading Swami by one hand while he used his other one to support himself on a cane. He slowly walked past me toward his room. Although his body walked into the opposite direction from where I was sitting, his being came toward me. There was no doubt about it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They told me that Swami Gambhirananda was not well and most probably would have to go to the hospital for a check up. He was running a slight fever. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I left his quarters to go to the Math office. On my way back to the guesthouse where I was staying, I met one of the servants who told me to go back to President Maharaj’ house. I thought it odd because I had just left there after seeing Swami Gambhirananda go to his room. So, I didn’t pay any attention and proceeded toward the guesthouse. Another person came and told me that I should go to President Maharaj’ house. I still did not pay attention. When a third person told me that, I felt that perhaps this was the will of the Divine and that I should go.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I reached President Maharaj’ house and saw a small group of monks standing outside the entrance. I felt shy. Uncertain about what to do, I stood in front of Swami Vivekananda’s temple. Swami Atmaramananda saw me and came toward me. He told me that Swami Gambhirananda would see me now. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvORVv5L9-Q41DsX_apuJ0Hf8z2LVt5QqhUnFcU8PlUI3VI7E-lRPzytCVypJVe40n9Luehyphenhyphen95K2bGvAG2-4p8cwxm7fBgTCQxkjTfNYDFvsbHzZULb5t5iYal-oHh18aVGOKAI374dmB/s1600/Swami+G2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvORVv5L9-Q41DsX_apuJ0Hf8z2LVt5QqhUnFcU8PlUI3VI7E-lRPzytCVypJVe40n9Luehyphenhyphen95K2bGvAG2-4p8cwxm7fBgTCQxkjTfNYDFvsbHzZULb5t5iYal-oHh18aVGOKAI374dmB/s320/Swami+G2.jpg" width="212" /></a>Coming in from the bright sunshine, my eyes had to adjust to the darkness in Swami Gambhirananda’s room. The Swami sat on a chair that looked like a lawn chair with a yellow towel draped over it. When he heard me enter the room, he stood up. To my great surprise, he threw out his arms wide and with a loud voice said, “Welcome, welcome home.” I mumbled something about being very happy to see him and that I had bought a video camera and wanted to take snaps of him. He patiently listened to my stammering and, after some time he softly said, “I shall take rest now.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I bowed to his holy feet, I did not know that these were the last words I was to hear him speak while he was alive. Somehow it did not occur to me that he could die. I was told that he would depart for the hospital soon. So, instead of going back to the guesthouse for my lunch, I walked to the main gate to see his car go by toward the hospital. That was the last glimpse I got of Swami alive.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Days went by and, every day, I would go to President Maharaj’ house to inquire about Swami in the hospital. Some days I heard that he was better and on others that he needed more treatment.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On December 28, 1988 I got my wish. In the morning I went to Dakshineswar and was allowed to take a video of Ma Kali in the inner shrine. I am familiar working with a camera but shooting a video was still quite new for me. In a way, I struggled as much with my excitement of being in the inner shrine as I did with working the video camera. What a pity. I wish I would have known more about shooting videos. I could have had a fantastic video of Ma. As it is, it’s a bit of a bumpy viewing -- a shaky camera zooming in and out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That night, I happily went to bed. I got my Divine Mother safely in my video camera. I was still smiling and going over the scene in Dakshineswar when the guesthouse servant loudly knocked on my door around 10:30 p.m. “Get up! President Maharaj has died.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfRbb8BKBoEWZLEWPM4JIcpy7ZikY6sSuCAUofkk8_XwpGfvQ-l5l11jMaK301CwMaIeI2BT3-pxUa-5PZvfzgxm6QTVgUSACWnH0P-xKYV-sKH-bs1PN2A5VzW7xpEKsIa0Frp6CWdUHc/s1600/Belur+Math+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> How could this be? That is not possible. I somehow put on a sari and was about to leave for the Arogya Bhavan where Swami’s body was laid out when my eyes fell on my two camera bags. For some reason I did not pick up my camera but took my video camera. Like a sleepwalker I followed the servant to the Bhavan. It was very dark and a crowd of monks had already assembled even though the body had just recently arrived. In the middle of a bare room lit by a couple of dangling light bulbs was a bed. Swami Gambhirananda’s dead body was lying there with great dignity.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Monks and lay members were chanting amid shock, grief and excitement. Somehow I got pushed toward the foot of the bed and stood in front of Swami’s holy feet. I could not think. A tremendous wave of pain made me numb. Tears shot like fountains from my eyes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Something inside me made me pick up my video camera, assemble it and start shooting. Nobody paid any attention to me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was transfixed on Swami Gambhirananda’s noble face surrounded by fragrant garlands. It was too painful to be me. I was in deep shock. My voice changed and became very low. My body became rigid. My eyes became the video camera and my body became the tripod as an incessant flow of tears rolled down my eyes. As I sat next to Swami Gambhirananda’s dead body, scenes rolled past my mind like a movie. I saw with great clarity the deeper meaning of my relationship with the great Swami and realized what a giant soul he was. I realized how much his silent influence had affected me in so many positive ways. Things I thought I had done and actions I thought I had successfully completed were in reality performed by his giant will. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I missed my opportunity to thank him. My upper sari was wet with tears. I could not talk to him any longer. I could not tell him that I now knew how great he was. I was left alone with this knowledge. So much pain. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Although some Swamis encouraged me to take rest and go to sleep, I did not leave Swami Gambhirananda’s body all night. I knew that in the morning thousands of people would come to pay their obeisance, and I most probably could not remain seated next to the holy body. Moreover, wanting to enshrine these last moments within my heart, I did not dare to look away from his face, fearing I’d loose a second of seeing his glowing face.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He did not allow me to look away from the pain. I felt I was made to be the witness, thereby taking part in the death experience. In agony I walked behind the procession of monks carrying his body.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQt5czQftOEdRpiLf7pJdlyaGyuTNVUoOLU3m0762g3IVx1BbHmF5nVPyEIClYZZqEVjX0tpoOAnGincqU0cQQEu-ForDzMmbCjsA0YbqhQArEsyo99jShJNCAMfi0-UNcIsEEr8izwOA/s1600/Belur+Math+from+the+Ganga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>It is strictly forbidden to take pictures on Belur Math grounds, but nobody stopped me as I walked holding the video camera in front of my eyes. I must have looked like a veritable embodiment of pain. The huge crowds of devotees that had assembled in the morning on the Belur Math grounds parted to let me through, and I walked like Moses through the Red Sea. I kept telling myself not to sob too loudly because the video camera would pick up this sound. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WL4r9DMx_NyO9IKyIQHDxLTnF1QFwT_5aC_HdE6juKWVvqPuqonqZ04VHw8_pNcsnI_vft18HdTZFk9V_WXtNFxctBsHXZQy3KEah54GomYrocVpoVymqgwwhrnFdlK6i74LZl9wTcck/s1600/Belur+Math+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WL4r9DMx_NyO9IKyIQHDxLTnF1QFwT_5aC_HdE6juKWVvqPuqonqZ04VHw8_pNcsnI_vft18HdTZFk9V_WXtNFxctBsHXZQy3KEah54GomYrocVpoVymqgwwhrnFdlK6i74LZl9wTcck/s320/Belur+Math+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In agony, I watched his holy body burn and saw his beloved head fall to the ground. My mind burned with him. I walked through the tunnel of pain and came out on the other side knowing that love and attachment are two different things. Yes, one can love without being attached. This great love never dies. It is always with us.</div><br />
When I came back to the U.S. and watched the video I took of Swami Gambhirananda’s cremation, I knew that it was not only for me. It was a document that vividly showed that death could not touch this giant being we called Swami Gambhirananda. The video was much less shaky than the one I had taken of Ma Kali at the Dakshineswar Kali temple. My body, being in a deep shock, was very rigid and served well as a tripod.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For the next two years, I did a lot of research on Swami Gambhirananda’s life and teachings. I interviewed many revered Swami’s of the Ramakrishna Order such as Swami Bhuteshananda, past president of the Ramakrishna Order, Swami Kashishwarananda, Swami Shivaswarupananda, Swami Atmasthananda, Swami Chetanananda, Swami Atmaramananda, and Swami Kamalananda.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A few times a week, I would drive over an hour after work to meet with a professional video editor and sometimes work late into the night. I had never worked on a video before, and it was difficult for me to create a storyboard and write the script. By Master’s grace, slowly all came together.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1r4Rukb60p30MNbmkEhKNimsHDD1ui02wmfLjVMhTFnXGko6jBhAi4LCpha9ijKFE0lLbHh09lWToMLGQC_t9o2QcR5wKUgOJakP9IdZRyMqZnsw0jTW_GYRuuzjvVGhkH1OMsGUOPydH/s1600/Swami+walking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>Once the video was edited, I hired Rich Capparela, a renowned U.S. radio artist who often hosts programs on classical radio stations. We laid down the soundtrack as Rich was reading my script. He is a great professional who picked up difficult and unfamiliar words very quickly. There is one section in the script where Rich had to read out the names of all the many great Swamis that Swami Gambhirananda met in his life. After Rich got through reading about four to five names, he suddenly threw his hands up in the air exclaiming, “Just when I thought I had it all down, there was another ananda and another ananda.” His tongue couldn’t make it, and he had to start over again. At one point during the scenes where Swami Gambhirananda’s body gets cremated, Rich cried. After the recording session, Rich did not charge his regular fee. Actually, he asked for a very minimal amount of money, saying: “It is my honor to be part of this project.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I went to Bombay and asked Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia to play original music for this video. Hariji hired a small studio and, looking at the video, he played his flute. When the video finished playing, we found out that the sound technician had made a mistake and nothing got recorded. Luckily Hariji liked the video. Instead of getting upset, he shrugged his shoulders and said,” Well, that was a long rehearsal.” When we watched the video again and Hariji saw the cremation of Swami Gambhirananda’s body, he played his flute with such sadness that he made me cry.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvFTBiBYQ3pHHyafDoM1AGTiJql_xe74kYAHvoHsynnsMOQz4d-F5cAbjG3BUqfmjRaZRdm9EMQU73UiW3mtzAjOI5MMdWoLRWbaEjHWy6xvGlDba_weGksLGM51v4t0Z9OvzhD1uSsV8/s1600/Profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvFTBiBYQ3pHHyafDoM1AGTiJql_xe74kYAHvoHsynnsMOQz4d-F5cAbjG3BUqfmjRaZRdm9EMQU73UiW3mtzAjOI5MMdWoLRWbaEjHWy6xvGlDba_weGksLGM51v4t0Z9OvzhD1uSsV8/s1600/Profile.jpg" /></a>When the video production was completed, I took it with me to Belur Math, and Swami Atmasthananda arranged for a viewing at the great library. Many senior monks and brahmacharins attended. Swami Atmasthananda also invited me to the event. I was a little scared that I might get a scolding for there were some sections in the video that I shot without permission. For instance, I took a video of mangal arati in Sri Ramakrishna’s temple hiding my camera under my chadder. I also took a video of Holy Mother’s shrine. I stood in front of Her living picture, asking Mother’s permission to shoot. Usually, there are so many people and guards there. But when I asked her plaintively, suddenly all people left and, from within me, I heard. “Shoot now.” I did. A little later, many people came to bow before Her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By Mother’s grace, I didn’t get scolded, and I believe the video was well perceived. Back in America, I organized a screening at one of the large movie studios in Hollywood. I wanted Swami Gambhirananda to be a movie star for one night. My mother and I went to Sony Pictures and rented two screening rooms at the Executive quarters at the old MGM studios. They were very elegant. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I talked to the studio executive about my project, he was interested and charged me only a fraction of the cost that he usually charges for these fancy screening rooms and the projectionist. I hired the studio catering staff to provide refreshments in the foyer. These were three girls who immediately took a liking to my project. They understood that I had wanted to build a monument for Swami Gambhiranandaji who I feel was my real father. The day of the screening, they went to all the studio parties and events, took away the fancy flower arrangements and brought them to the foyer. Needless to say, the hundred people or so who attended the premiere showing of Swami Gambhirananda’s documentary video were treated to a lavish event. When people entered, they received a yellow rose and were then treated with fancy delicacies and soft drinks. As the guests mingled speaking softly about Swami Gambhirananda, the atmosphere was festive and laden with spirituality in an environment that is at other times extremely worldly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGAfDb6L7YlYX_zYcokYnItREbJw7xxr6odRdgUxaPciOU2DoUg231IcN7e8aIy3GA8DjpalvUi1SuVRP3ne9n9ZJrrUl9joJkohZH_VP-HD0pmh6EbXgVM3dPMN2yVK3fhxxpDtjVtpw/s1600/Swami+walking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Although this video deals mostly with Swami Gambhirananda’s death, it is rather clear that it was only his body that is gone. Shortly before his passing, Swami Gambhirananda told one of his attendants: “I feel I’m nearing the house of death.” Then, quickly, he corrected himself and said, “No, I am not. There is no death for the Knower of God.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXOJu8hi9KPNCweaMqXBHUYWX0B50ernb1RdOgYIAgza-GS7zhdfgmD2cQcnOWN0TVhBYRaVTHp6Qw9BkJzKss5OfnXxIdh04tHKqVTj9SnrxgyibBmwHLBhNSN_xLRwiOXpR_cbRdSr4/s1600/Sw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXOJu8hi9KPNCweaMqXBHUYWX0B50ernb1RdOgYIAgza-GS7zhdfgmD2cQcnOWN0TVhBYRaVTHp6Qw9BkJzKss5OfnXxIdh04tHKqVTj9SnrxgyibBmwHLBhNSN_xLRwiOXpR_cbRdSr4/s320/Sw.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Gpczag1Yr2paUgdpeKZqCOiQ-RDslM7ua323qrVJq4hUIFrx6skMlgG1WTKmv2JJb1TK5oBqDIINy_6FB7cA31jBH-eeXmeZHCuyQ16QPgHwWww7UH94sJg5GT6DligIOud-4MppLXVv/s1600/Sunrise+full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This article by Elizabeth Usha Harding was originally published in a Bengali edition of reminiscences of Swami Gambhirananda as well as in "Footfalls, Swami Gambhirananda and Other Journeys" by Bibhas De.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-32203347029628251352010-08-04T18:21:00.000-07:002010-08-05T12:16:37.602-07:00The Bauls(This article was originally published in<i> </i><i>Prabuddha Bharata</i>, a monthly journal of the Ramakrishna Order that was started by Swami Vivekananda in 1896.)<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><i> </i></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbgkw9041044EBdI4qRzz2wauoRWB6LhOoODPaJGYua-XUZXapO97EnYmgfwNeWRTAT9RoedWx-DNr2BjNrrqqOITwMWCf0X4e_6TG8EZ_FA5yYrRA6YZWpDfMzQWJm1edcvWMmMYZ_rR/s1600/Nabini+Das+Baul+for+Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbgkw9041044EBdI4qRzz2wauoRWB6LhOoODPaJGYua-XUZXapO97EnYmgfwNeWRTAT9RoedWx-DNr2BjNrrqqOITwMWCf0X4e_6TG8EZ_FA5yYrRA6YZWpDfMzQWJm1edcvWMmMYZ_rR/s320/Nabini+Das+Baul+for+Web.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nabani Das Kshyepa Baul</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><i> </i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>“A band of minstrels suddenly appears, dances, and sings, and it departs in the same sudden manner. They come and they return, but none recognizes them.”<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>- Sri Ramakrishna (Gospel Chapter 49) <o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sri Ramakrishna said that he would be born again as a Baul; the Holy Mother Sri Sarada Devi told this to Swami Arupananda. According to one of her recorded conversations, this would happen within a century, while Girish Chandra Ghosh and some others were of the opinion that Sri Ramakrishna spoke of returning in two hundred years.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>My First Experience with the Bauls<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was the year of 1985 – almost one hundred years after Sri Ramakrishna’s passing -- and I was living near the Hollywood Vedanta Society at the time. When I heard that one of the most famous Bauls – Sri Purna Das Baul – was on tour in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Los Angeles</st1:place></st1:city>, I went to find him. This was my chance to get to know more about the Bauls.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had been rather ill for almost a year, suffering from a severe respiratory infection and, since I had never experienced any long-lasting illnesses before, I felt insecure and thought that I might never get well. When Babu, Purna Das’ eldest son invited me to come to the 1986 Joydeb Mela, I happily accepted. For a long time I had the desire to go to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>, travel to a remote place and write about it for the <i>National Geographic</i> magazine. This was my chance to do that and to forget about my illness. Moreover, deep in my heart I cherished a wild dream: perhaps, I would find Sri Ramakrishna born again as a baby Baul at the mela, fair.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As it turned out, my first trip to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> put me into the fast lane to God. Although I never wrote a story for <i>National Geographic</i>, I got cured of my illness, and I started to live and experience first-hand what I only had been reading and dreaming about before. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCxsHWwjUnZpSGxnZOEb7oBvbyHM65ZSs-4Pbz03uECvXqwr2ycCuQ4bBQbiOsQsZICzXvAmh5stnR9Ks47vkcPiYpeI9Hcuy36kR8dbelJOUn2uVlv-NZabW2nB9MHye0wJhCPTUlck2z/s1600/on+the+way+to+Joydeb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCxsHWwjUnZpSGxnZOEb7oBvbyHM65ZSs-4Pbz03uECvXqwr2ycCuQ4bBQbiOsQsZICzXvAmh5stnR9Ks47vkcPiYpeI9Hcuy36kR8dbelJOUn2uVlv-NZabW2nB9MHye0wJhCPTUlck2z/s320/on+the+way+to+Joydeb.jpg" /></a></div><br />
For those unfamiliar with this event, Joydeb Mela is a three-day and three-night Baul festival which takes place every year during the time of Makar Sankranti, the 14<sup>th</sup> day in January as per the solar calendar when the sun begins to travel northwards. The mela is held in Kenduli, a small village in Birbhum located about 30 km west of Shantiniketan where Rabindranath Tagore founded his famous forest university. Tens of thousands of people throng to Kenduli during the mela to hear the Bauls sing and to bathe in the Ajoy river during the auspicious time of Makar Sankranti.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqxqsFWR_DAq1rF8LQRlwuUbeXG6Oa9D0V4HlfDcmtyS38cxSrQD7FA77EQUnunhnE-xv7WOnwrUQSYud6h8QfCtJi20A0A3Socxpgb-GfLdFr3gnmpWHVvTlvWdgEWzylmGfDAe8GjOx/s1600/ontheWay2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqxqsFWR_DAq1rF8LQRlwuUbeXG6Oa9D0V4HlfDcmtyS38cxSrQD7FA77EQUnunhnE-xv7WOnwrUQSYud6h8QfCtJi20A0A3Socxpgb-GfLdFr3gnmpWHVvTlvWdgEWzylmGfDAe8GjOx/s320/ontheWay2.jpg" /></a></div>The poet Jayadeva who composed the <i>Gita </i>Govinda, is said to have taken birth at Kenduli, although some dispute that and put his birthplace somewhere in Orissa. Be it as it may, the Joydeb Mela is dedicated to honoring Jayadeva and his wife Padmavati and, as one wanders or rather is pushed by the crowd through narrow, dusty lanes lined by make-shift stalls, one finds many pictures, statues and small booklets glorifying the poet. One of Jayadeva’s famous saying is <i>sabar upare manush satya tahar upare nai - </i>there is no higher truth than the human soul.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Throughout the year, Kenduli is a sleepy little village but, when the mela starts, thousands of people arrive in cars, buses, bullock carts, and on bicycles. There are long lines of dusty villagers that have walked for days to get there. Every year, temporary large tents are erected in Kenduli where the Bauls stay and perform. Generally these tents fill up with people way past maximum safety regulations.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2J_GsLJs4gI5ffHJ-wtYHYxSjY6N7fAqvN96sjjymxONt2xxWWb_mgTCWkWBwVOHKb4Prd48uLfYpIWmNM2c8VAmYWqQwouOLJkFEy_EQJAn8EqGT1ehsn3zZyVeQEy7gIzooF1F8Ha_/s1600/IMG0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2J_GsLJs4gI5ffHJ-wtYHYxSjY6N7fAqvN96sjjymxONt2xxWWb_mgTCWkWBwVOHKb4Prd48uLfYpIWmNM2c8VAmYWqQwouOLJkFEy_EQJAn8EqGT1ehsn3zZyVeQEy7gIzooF1F8Ha_/s320/IMG0030.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brajabala Dasi, wife of Nabani Das and mother of Purna Das Baul</td></tr>
</tbody></table>When I arrived in Kolkata, it was night time and Purna Das’sons Babu and Bapi picked me up from the airport. The first impressions of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> rolled past me as I pressed my nose against the car window. I saw people walking in the dark and shopkeepers sitting in small stalls lit up by flickering kerosene lanterns. This sight was deeply familiar. It reminded me to my early childhood when my mother, grandmother and I stayed in a house in the Austrian countryside after the war.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6qtUWDAU2x8vw6lCCEMWTQJebvLEFV-Q6VgiFITpMpPD2tVN5Yb-bzyvNnnqgEenr8RwnlaSpIINSzyOskwgwLYWvUwd2XnehyeRpgodGxY6J4h27M3ZJOlFS9RJFxhsNAETfz294aOtO/s1600/PurnaDas4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6qtUWDAU2x8vw6lCCEMWTQJebvLEFV-Q6VgiFITpMpPD2tVN5Yb-bzyvNnnqgEenr8RwnlaSpIINSzyOskwgwLYWvUwd2XnehyeRpgodGxY6J4h27M3ZJOlFS9RJFxhsNAETfz294aOtO/s320/PurnaDas4.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Purna Das Baul Samrat</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Early next morning, Purna Das, his wife Manju Das, his three sons Babu, Bapi and Chotton and I squeezed into a light-blue Maruti mini-van and drove to Shantiniketan where we picked up three musicians that were to accompany Purna Das during the performance at Joydeb. It was hot, dusty and extremely uncomfortable sitting in the crowded car. As we drove on a small country road over pothole after pothole and dodged one head-on collision with a truck after another, we were all getting somewhat irritable. All of a sudden, Manju Das began singing a Baul song. It was as if she waved a magic wand. The mood changed instantaneously from being irritable to joyous. Everybody in the car started singing, and we arrived in Kenduli elated.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I did not want to get out of the car when I saw the mass of people that surrounded us. The ocean of excited faces staring at us was scary to me. Out of exuberance over the arrival of Purna Das, people were shaking the car. The side door opened and Purna Das stepped out of the car unperturbed and smiling. I was scared to get out, and I was even more scared to be left behind. Clutching my camera equipment and purse, I pushed through the throng of people, following Purna Das’orange turban bouncing above all the heads in front of me. I was terrified of getting lost. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In later years, I learned that there was never any chance of me getting lost. I may not have known where I was, but everybody among the thousands of people attending Joydeb knew exactly where I was at any time. I was one of, perhaps, two or three Westerners that attended the mela. During my first trip to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>, I still thought like a Westerner. I had not yet learned the Indian way.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLuXkYdNdB0K3zdmsUB-ahgoD81OcpRH14BctEbn-rx7aClpI5eeVaJpD7Dkzkb-WXY9Cf9yu7EynMqENvQjbLlVRvaRHEe9E5zPOnGS-C4JuE93iLDHkPGCBZFNAv7NMZrdQd8V3PorQ/s1600/Joydeb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLuXkYdNdB0K3zdmsUB-ahgoD81OcpRH14BctEbn-rx7aClpI5eeVaJpD7Dkzkb-WXY9Cf9yu7EynMqENvQjbLlVRvaRHEe9E5zPOnGS-C4JuE93iLDHkPGCBZFNAv7NMZrdQd8V3PorQ/s320/Joydeb.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Kenduli did not have much of an infrastructure to support that many people. At that time, there were dirt roads, and it was very dark at night because few houses and tents had electricity. Yet, the magic that happened on a stage lit by a single light bulb is difficult to describe.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN6gv1TihyphenhyphenVmANbVXXDF1uNDf73odkJDQ7MCzeoRpUe9FD-gb4u4t6sGM27C8qrq-LHmHlSbn2QvUY1i_0sCM0hiZzE2nGtFFJ5Lp6Y04TDW6NUwXgt4y2qJYN5s89P2Q5RGNC4oZjgg4F/s1600/Purna+Das+and+group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN6gv1TihyphenhyphenVmANbVXXDF1uNDf73odkJDQ7MCzeoRpUe9FD-gb4u4t6sGM27C8qrq-LHmHlSbn2QvUY1i_0sCM0hiZzE2nGtFFJ5Lp6Y04TDW6NUwXgt4y2qJYN5s89P2Q5RGNC4oZjgg4F/s320/Purna+Das+and+group.jpg" /></a></div>They say that once you have listened to a Baul singing ecstatically, you will never forget this experience. I can vouch for that. Even though I don’t understand the words being sung and need to rely on somebody’s translation, my inner being intuitively responds to the call of the Baul. Filled with passionate longing for God, the Baul sings earthy songs dripping with the juice of divine love. As he sings loudly, the red earth of <st1:place w:st="on">Bengal</st1:place> resounds and carries his call to villages far off into the horizon.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<b>The Ways of the Bauls<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Though most Bauls are poor, their spirit is rich due to non-attachment to external things. Outwardly they wear the garb of a beggar but, inwardly, they delight in the wealth of bliss. Established in his sadhana, the Baul sings with the freedom of a soul without shackles.</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Baul songs are mystical, poetic and multi-layered. Underneath the obvious meaning of words, lie deep meanings that cannot be properly understood by a person who does not practice sadhana. Secrets of Baul sadhana are given openly in hidden language.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Naboni Das Khyepa Baul’s elder brother Rasaraj wrote the following famous Baul song “<i>yemon beni temni rabe...”</i> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>The way my braid is, that’s how it will stay.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>I’ll get into the water, I’ll splash water around<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>But I won’t get my hair wet.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>I’ll swim about this way and that way<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>I’ll dive into the water and won’t listen to what people say.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>I’ll enjoy myself but not suffer because of it.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>Gosain Rasaraj says: “Listen, my friend,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>That beauty leaves me speechless.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>I won’t be chaste; I won’t be unchaste.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>I won’t leave my Lord.”<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On a similar note, Sri Ramakrishna often told his householder disciples engaged in worldly activities: “A boat may stay in water but water should not stay in the boat. An aspirant may live in the world, but the world should not live within him.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">The Baul sips like a bee, as it were, the most suitable nectar from Hinduism, tantric Buddhism and Sufi Islam and distills this concoction into a honey that gives him an intoxicating direct experience of God. This approach to God is perceived as too unconventional by people who lack the freedom and willingness to comprehend. Therefore, Bauls have been labeled as “mad” by orthodox prejudice for at least 600 years. Breaking conventional social customs, Bauls deliberately dress in both Hindu and Muslim garments. They embrace all, disregarding religious, caste and social restrictions.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kanai Das Baul</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Authentic worship of God, according to the Bauls, takes place only deep within the heart where the divine <i>moner manush, </i>“Man of the Heart,” is enshrined. “God is hidden in the heart of man and, neither priest nor prophet, nor the ritual of any organized religion, will help man to find him there,” writes Professor Edward Dimock, an eminent scholar of Bengali literature.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">village</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Kenduli</st1:placename></st1:place> has been built up quite a bit since I attended Joydeb Mela in 1986, and the number of people attending this festival has dramatically increased. Purna Das Baul, who was one of the first Bauls to bring Baul songs and philosophy to the drawing rooms of Kolkata and the rest of the world, has done much to spread awareness of Baul traditions. Before Purna Das Baul, the Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore added much to the popularity of Baul ways. Drawing inspiration from the Bauls, Rabindranath Tagore was a great supporter of Purna Das’ father, Nabani Das Kshyepa Baul. He collaborated with Nabani Das Baul, supported him financially and gave him land for a Baul institution.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While the popularity of the Bauls brought material success to some, it did more harm than good to the true Bauls who practice serious sadhana. It brought an influx of <i>shilpis</i>, professional singers, who dress like Bauls and sing Baul songs for money but do not practice Baul sadhana. According to some estimates, there were over 200 <i>shilpis</i> at the 2008 Joydeb Mela, almost outnumbering the real Bauls. The <i>shilpis</i> cash in the rupees while the real Bauls are still poor.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Moreover, misunderstanding of the “way of the Baul” has caused a lot of mischief at Joydeb Mela. Nowadays aside from simple village folk, hordes of people from cities throng to Kenduli during Joydeb. Attracted by the term “freedom,” worldly city dwellers come to Joydeb Mela to indulge in licentious behavior. They come to smoke ganja, get drunk and behave badly with women unaware that their distorted understanding of freedom only leads to greater bondage and suffering.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bauls are rather difficult to comprehend. I have lived with Bauls, read most books written on the Bauls, interviewed people on Baul philosophy and seen most video clips on Bauls that are available. Rarely have I found worthy information and accurate statements in books written by Westerners as well as Indians. Either the books are too scholarly or they deal with an author’s misguided perception of what it means to be a Baul. One cannot understand the Baul intellectually; one must intuitively feel them with one’s heart.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Some statements in these books remind me to Sri Ramakrishna’s fable of the blind men describing an elephant. Touching different parts of the animal, each of the blind men has the experience of the elephant but that experience is only partial. The blind man who touches the ears of the elephant proclaims that the elephant is like a winnowing fan and another, who touches the leg, says that the elephant is like a pillar. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One cannot label Bauls and put them into convenient categories. Baul sadhana practices differ from one Baul clan to another, from one <i>akhra, </i>Baul ashram, to another. Perhaps it would be easier to herd cats than to start an organized group of Baul members.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yet there is a through-line of similarities among the different Bauls. Be they Vaishnava Bauls or Muslim Fakirs, be they <i>grihasta</i>, householder, Bauls or sannyasin Bauls, all Bauls believe that love for man is the path leading to love for the Divine. All Bauls practice intense pranayama and various kundalini and yogic practices.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Nabani Das Baul became such an adept in breath control that he could stay under water for a long time. His wife, Brajabala Dasi, told a story about the time she and her neighbors thought that Nabani Das Baul had drowned. A neighbor saw him enter into a pond in Shantiniketan in the early morning hours but did not see him come back out. As villagers stood around the pond lamenting, Nabani Das Baul resurfaced and was startled by the commotion.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bauls dress in flaming orange colors or in patchwork kurtas that reach down way past their knees. They do not cut their hair and generally tie it up in a top knot. When they dance, their steps follow practices so ancient that they are universal. An Australian aborigine elder joined Purna Das Baul during a performance in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Australia</st1:country-region></st1:place>. While Purna Das sang an old Baul song and performed dance steps handed down by his ancestors, the aborigine elder sang an old aborigine song in the same tune following the same dance steps.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7GxDTSgKJ3DvMkQsXoQe5Vt2lb8IeYd33n1MkAXDAneQQl_lW7W4aMzbl9XNVg_YQXfT3HOh2iMJVtx_yfPC3LdaFvPXkdO7EpjZqnUFhIyHtU48EJNNHrNb5bhsPHD6e5jKIBMbcCDqP/s1600/instruments.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7GxDTSgKJ3DvMkQsXoQe5Vt2lb8IeYd33n1MkAXDAneQQl_lW7W4aMzbl9XNVg_YQXfT3HOh2iMJVtx_yfPC3LdaFvPXkdO7EpjZqnUFhIyHtU48EJNNHrNb5bhsPHD6e5jKIBMbcCDqP/s320/instruments.jpg" /></a></div>Traditionally, Bauls only used percussion and stringed instruments for accompaniment. Of these, perhaps the most famous one is the <i>gopiyantra</i> or <i>ektara,</i> a one-stringed drone instrument that is plucked by a wire plectrum. The drone sound reminds the Baul of the oneness of all. The next in importance is the <i>anandalahari</i> or <i>khamak</i> which is a drum that is plucked. A pair of strings attached to the skin of an open one-headed drum is fixed to another small drum. By tightening and relaxing these strings, the Baul strikes them with a plectrum, creating a most exhilarating sound and beat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Other Baul instruments are the <i>dotara</i>, a four-stringed long-necked lute, the <i>duggi</i>, a kettle drum which is tied to the Baul’s waist, <i>nupur </i>(anklets), kartal (cymbals) and the khol, a drum that is a Bengali village version of the <i>mridanga. </i> Today, some Bauls also use the harmonium, tabla, flute and violin.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bauls earn most of their living by singing in public places, at railroad stations, and by going from door to door. Their style of living is simple – some would say lowly - but their attitude, their way of thinking is most high. They may sit on a used, torn mat on the verandah of a clay hut and eat a simple meal, but they share it with their family and whoever happens to be around with such gusto that the simple food turns into nectar of the gods.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bauls give respect to all. In the West, we may say “thank you,” and think that we are done with giving respect. I remember Purna Das Baul scolding me once severely after I thanked Sri Manohar Kshyepa Baba, a most respected guru of many Bauls, for allowing me to interview him at Joydeb Mela. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manohar Kshyepa Baba</td></tr>
</tbody></table>“Who are you to thank such a great soul as Manohar Kshyepa Baba?” scolded Purna Das Baul. “You are in no position to thank him. All you can do is pranam and beg for his blessings.” I learned a great lesson. Bauls regard their guru as God and pay the utmost respect to him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Non-attachment is another trait of a real Baul. I remember Purna Das Baul telling me a story about his childhood. His family moved often from village to village. At one time, they stayed longer at a particular village. Outside this village was a small roadside Kali temple. Purna Das Baul took a liking to this image and went there every day without telling his parents. Curious about where his son was going, Nabani Das Baul followed him one day. “My son, you should never be attached to any external thing,” said Nabani Das Baul. The next day, the family packed up and moved to another village.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Another story I heard from Purna Das Baul gave me a lesson in same-sightedness. Nabanidas Baul was gone for many weeks and his family was starving. Ma sent out Purna Das Baul in search of his father. After searching for a while, Purna Das Baul found his father in a small village that was suffering tremendous food shortages due to draught. They had asked Nabani Das Baul to stay and do a special sadhana to bring rain. Nabani Das Baul told the villagers to feed the children. When they did as told, not only did rain come but also miraculously food appeared , brought by neighboring villagers.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Purna Das Baul tapped his father’s shoulder and mentioned that his family is starving while he is feeding children in this village. Nabani Das Baul replied, “Who says that these are not my children? All are my children. I am feeding my children.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>Sri Ramakrishna Baul<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am still waiting to meet Sri Ramakrishna as a Baul. Though many disregard the possibility of Sri Ramakrishna being born again -- saying that he has given enough and does not need to return -- I believe that Sri Ramakrishna will return as a Baul. Perhaps he will come in 100 years, perhaps in 200 years. In my humble opinion, the mood of a Baul might suit Sri Ramakrishna well. Outwardly, the Baul shows tremendous emotion and drama but inwardly, the Baul is still like Shiva soaked in the bliss of Oneness. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>It may be apt to conclude this article -- my humble attempt of verbally using a few brush strokes to sketch a picture of a real Baul -- by quoting Sri Ramakrishna talking about the Bauls in <i>The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna</i> recorded by M.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa</td></tr>
</tbody></table><i>Sri Ramakrishna (to M.): Leaning on one side too long yesterday while in ecstasy in Adhar’s house, I got pain in my leg. So I now take Baburam with me wherever I go. He is a sympathetic soul.<o:p></o:p> </i><br />
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<i>Saying this, the Master sang:<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>How can I tell you, O friend! What is in my heart?<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>I cannot live without a sympathetic heart.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>The man of the heart is recognized by his look.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>He is rare; he swims in bliss and is steeped in love.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>The man of the heart trades in love.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>Where can we find the man of the heart<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>Who carries only a tattered rag under his arm?<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>He does not say a word; he travels the high road.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>The man of the heart makes a stir on the high road.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>Sri Ramakrishna: The Bauls sing such songs. There are also songs like this:<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>Wait, O Dervish, holding the begging bowl,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>Stand and let me dwell on your beauty.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Sri Ramakrishna: The siddha (perfect individual) of the Shakta Cult is called a kaul. According to Vedanta, he is called a paramahamsa. According to Baul Vaishnavas, he is a Sain. There is none beyond the Sain.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>A Baul becomes a Sain when he is a siddha. For him, there are no differences in the world. One half of his necklace is made of cow bones and the other of the tulsi plant. <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Sri Ramakrishna: A Baul once came here. I said to him, “Are you finished with all the work of refining? Is the pot down from the fire?” The more you boil the syrup, the more refined it will be. First you have the juice of the sugar cane, next molasses, after which lumps, next sugar, then sugar candy, hard sugar balls, etc. It is being refined continuously.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>When is the pot taken down? That is, when will spiritual practices come to an end? It will be when the sense organs will be conquered. The sense organs will become loose like the leech which drops off itself when lime is put on it. He lives with a woman but does not know her.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Jai Guru</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742653520115118431.post-68242935441599277282010-08-04T17:04:00.000-07:002010-08-05T00:19:58.527-07:00Yielding to the Storm of Kali<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: century schoolbook,arial; font-size: 16px;"><b> </b></span></div><img align="right" alt="" src="https://www.kalimandir.org/images/userfiles/image/storm_img1.jpg" /><br />
<i><span style="font-family: century schoolbook,arial; font-size: 11px;">This article, written in 1992, first appeared in <i>Tattva-Sangarba</i>, the journal of the Sringiri Shankaracharia Math, India. A portion was also published in <i>Tantra Magazine</i> and <i>Light of Consciousness</i>. </span></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>There’s a sacred wind blowing, heralding the dawn of mysticism. I feel it, my friends feel it, and the news media has started writing about it. We are waiting with bated breath for the day to come when mystics will inhabit the world, when Christians, Muslims, Jews and Hindus get so intoxicated with love for the God of their heart that their differences melt into a giant pot of divine love. When I close my eyes and think about it, I can almost taste what a world consummated by collective mystical union could be like.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ma Bhavatarini Kali</td></tr>
</tbody></table>A mystic in my dictionary is someone who, over and above his or her spiritual and/or intellectual disciplines, is in perfect tune with the consciousness underlying all-the very thing we all have in common and that which differentiates a live person from a dead body. Everybody is hooked into this life-giving consciousness, but only few enjoy its divine bliss and splendor. A mystic enjoys the glamour of God because he or she has managed to shake off the ego, which is the only thing that separates us and prevents lasting happiness.<br />
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We’re living in a time when things are getting ready for change. As we approach the millennium, suddenly old beliefs we’ve lain in comfortably for so many years don’t hold any longer, baring the field of doctrine to a tempest which may reshape Western religious and intellectual thought.<br />
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On the spiritual side, there is turmoil. Organized religions have trouble keeping their formalities flexible enough to accommodate people’s desire for a more personalized religion. I believe that people want to practice yoga whether they call it by this name or not. They want to have their own personal connection with God and put sacredness back into every aspect of their daily lives. People are reaching out to spirituality, something that can be substantiated by the fact that Pope John Paul II’s new book, <i>Crossing the Threshold of Hope</i> topped the best-seller list, bypassing Faye Resnick’s raunchy tell-all book about Nicole Brown Simpson.<br />
On the scholarly side, there is turmoil. Faith in secular, rationalist humanism-with progress as the promise and reason as the tool-is eroding for the first time since this philosophy germinated in the Renaissance. Rationalist humanism made us believe we could discover the “laws of nature” through reason and, applying this knowledge, things would get better and better.<br />
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And since we’ve failed to harness nature over all these years, the voices of advocates of the chaos theory are now getting louder, undermining the conventional theories of rationalist humanism. According to the chaos theory, we’re living in a universe of chaos where change is the norm, and where change without end does not necessarily mean we are progressing toward anything better.<br />
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As a lover of the Hindu Goddess Kali, I have no problem with chaos. I see it as Ma Kali’s divinely intoxicated dance. As the destroyer, Kali clears the path for new creation. Shouting, “Off with the ego!” the great Queen of the Universe clothes Herself in chaos so awesome that our arrogance automatically falls off, giving way to unconditional surrender.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ma Dakshineswari Kali of Laguna Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>This black goddess Kali is mysticism personified. As such, She has a tremendous unifying power. She intoxicates us, fermenting us into the same wine. I’ve been privy to gain first-hand knowledge of this. Over the past couple of years, I have sponsored public Kali pujas held in Laguna Beach, California, performed by Sri Haradhan Chakraborti, the main <i>pujari</i> (priest) of the Dakshineswar Kali Temple. So many blissful faces, so many diverse people worshipping side by side-Westerners and Indian, people from the Vedanta Society, SRF, Yoga Center, ISKCON and followers of a veritable rainbow of yogis and yoginis too numerous to list.<br />
The first time I felt like abandoning myself to the divine will was when I first saw Ma Kali’s face in the inner sanctum of the Dakshineswar Kali Temple, Calcutta, India. I was so awed that I forgot to ask Her for anything, not even to straighten out any of my problems. All I wanted was to let go of myself just like a child lets go of the string, releasing the balloon to ascend toward the vast blue sky.<br />
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Perhaps this feeling of wild abandonment was caused by the inexplicable ecstatic joy I fest at the time, or perhaps it was just the noise of my rapidly beating heart that drove away my thoughts. Whatever the reason, this feeling came to me quite naturally and was not something I deliberately manufactured.<br />
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Yet, what seemed so easy a thing to accomplish at first has turned into the hardest task I have ever attempted. Years have passed, and I still don’t know how to completely surrender at Ma Kali’s feet. It’s a vicious cycle. The more I long to surrender, the deeper my understanding gets of what it means to surrender to the Divine. One moment I feel I have done it; the next, I realize how much farther I need to go.<br />
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I found Kali-or She found me-in 1986 while I was traveling in India on assignment for a magazine. I was immediately overwhelmed by the very tangible power one feels in Her presence, and I got frustrated when I could not find enough information on this mystical black goddess. I had so many questions and could find no books written about Her in a language my heart could understand. So, I began research and wrote one myself.<br />
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The fuel for my passion that drives me to do all kinds of things-such as writing a book on Kali-is love. Life is boring without love. I think that perhaps I need more love than other people do, because I don’t want to live without it. I remember my teenage years, which I spent mostly depressed. Though I got plenty of love, it was never enough to satisfy my hungry heart. I was a beggar for love, begging with outstretched hands: “Oh please, give me love, give me love, give me more love.”<br />
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Today, I am a lot wealthier. Ma Kali’s presence in my heart reversed, as it were, the current of love within me. Previously, this current flowed from the outside in and made me depend on favorable external influences. Now, it flows from the inside out. When I stopped depending on people to love me and started listening to and feeling the love in my own exciting heart, the current of love reversed.<br />
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If only people would become lovers rather than wanting to be beloveds, there would be a lot less hurt and hatred in the world. It’s much easier to be a lover because the ego gets less in the way. As a lover, I am more prone to love unconditionally, without expectations. As a lover, I seek happiness more for my beloved than for myself. It encourages me to be unselfish. In my case, unselfishness did not come over night. I’m still working on it and have a long way to go.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nea1x5X_qAy-WkgD0NbUQdOtIIZu8o1GVL9uHBQa_kSajuKA59tQZ6jlIJBHIZBm8IyY3jOXwVRTJpwzlBr5cIgdHVD0o2SQyiKwYQdaX3vnpdVt6Pv_Nzy_IAifjgdLAod6tcAUMv9j/s1600/Ramakrishna+Kali+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nea1x5X_qAy-WkgD0NbUQdOtIIZu8o1GVL9uHBQa_kSajuKA59tQZ6jlIJBHIZBm8IyY3jOXwVRTJpwzlBr5cIgdHVD0o2SQyiKwYQdaX3vnpdVt6Pv_Nzy_IAifjgdLAod6tcAUMv9j/s320/Ramakrishna+Kali+poster.jpg" /></a></div>My ideal is Sri Ramakrishna, the Godman who lived at the Dakshineswar Kali Temple for 30 years. His passionate love and total surrender to Kali united his being with Hers, making Her will and his inseparable.<br />
“Surrender seems like such a passive act,” remarked my friend Tray during a recent discussion. “Yet, it’s really a lot of work.”<br />
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But it’s certainly worth it. The more I go about loving unselfishly, the deeper the feeling of satisfaction. It is my sincere belief that as long as I am unselfish and live in tune with God, my love will always be replenished. I’ll never run our of love, even if the people I love hurt me. I may not be immune to getting hurt, but when I do, underneath the tears continues to flow a sweet current of bliss.<br />
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To me, surrender to God means to live constantly in tune with God. This is, indeed, a very hard thing to do. The belief that I am not the doer and Ma Kali is doing something through me comes with practice. It shouldn’t be wishful thinking or come from an emotional sentiment that may land me in a mental institution. When it is real and true, it is a tangible feeling beyond doubt.<br />
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I have met many people who I thought had attained great spiritual heights. But, after spending time with them, I discovered that their talk and behavior was based on past spiritual experiences and learned behavior-which is certainly not bad. But, God cannot be realized in the past or future. God can only be realized in the present.<br />
It is truly rare and great good fortune to meet someone who lives in the present moment and whose spirituality bubbles spontaneously from the heart. When one lives constantly in tune with God, every word, every action is spontaneous. Even when one repeats God’s name a thousand times, each repetition is fresh and completely spontaneous.<br />
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Though surrendering to Kali means giving up the ego, depending on which Kali worshipper one talks to, one gets a slightly different point of view. I may long to annihilate my ego but my friend Gita may not think this is the goal: “I believe the purpose of creation is to love God-realize one’s identity with Kali but retain the semblance of separation so She can be loved,” said Gita. “It is Mother who gave us this ego and these desires in the first place. It’s up to Her to take them away or fulfill them. She gives so much, even the things that lead to pain. We asked for them and She gives them to let us grow. When you realize that everything is Kali, the desires drop away and you just love Her.” My friend Jose does not worry about the ego. “I never made a conscious effort to bring God into my life,” said Jose. “God is doing everything. I am a Krishna devotee and had no intention of worshipping Kali. It’s Sri Ramakrishna’s trick. Somebody brought me an image of Kali, and I now worship Her every day.”<br />
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One thing all Kali worshippers I met have in common is a sense of fearlessness. I don’t have to be afraid of anything for I worship the Mother who gives birth and destroys all things created. So, whom or what to fear?<br />
Ma Jaya Sati Bhagavati, one of the most vivacious American spiritual teachers I know, has turned Kali worship into a most practical application. Ma Jaya gives Kali to people afflicted with AIDS. She tells them, “I can’t cure you, but I can teach you how to die fearlessly in the Mother’s arms.” Ma Jaya, who is also an artist, activist and humanitarian, is the founder of the Kashi Foundation in Sebastian, Florida.<br />
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One can read a lot about spirituality and surrender, but one doesn’t get the taste for it until one experiences it. It helps to spend time in the company of the holy, people who have dedicated their lives to realize God. Their company stimulates sacred emotion, which, in turn, overpowers mere analytical thought.<br />
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I owe India a lot. I have learned so much by just being there. In my book <i>Kali, the Black Goddess of Dakshineswar</i>, published by Nicolas-Hays, I tried to convey to the reader what it feels like to stand in the courtyard in front of the temple. The following is an excerpt:<br />
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<blockquote><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rXCLYeF2x4FlHlWwHaASjIxPcjPJ9vOYHfYkYcVlIy0glPEbuMJynpAyr3AOyfucIrLKXWk0XeTcKkRglGJeOra3_ko7BGXDtjtk_a1V8mHW0whi9iv7I73bvAR1JHYTPKPTY_NvZUwx/s1600/kali+the+black+goddess+of+dakshineshwar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rXCLYeF2x4FlHlWwHaASjIxPcjPJ9vOYHfYkYcVlIy0glPEbuMJynpAyr3AOyfucIrLKXWk0XeTcKkRglGJeOra3_ko7BGXDtjtk_a1V8mHW0whi9iv7I73bvAR1JHYTPKPTY_NvZUwx/s320/kali+the+black+goddess+of+dakshineshwar.jpg" /></a><i>The closer one gets to the inner shrine, the louder one hears throaty shouts that echo from within the temple. “Ma, oh Ma, Ma go Ma! Jai Kali! Jai Kali Ma! Jai Ma Bhavatarini ji ki jai!” One also hears the loud clanking of a bell that rings in spurts. Yet, one still cant see anything in front besides heads and raised arms. The front entrance to the Kali shrine has three arched passageways. Because the middle one is blocked, worshippers enter and exit at both sides. Today, it is very crowded, and one is shoved through. Cold sweat stands on the forehead as one suddenly finds oneself inside a cool covered veranda. It is quite cool although there in no visible air-conditioning system. Toward the left, suspended from the ceiling, hangs a big brass bell. Every other pilgrim who is pushed past, reaches up and clanks it as loudly as possible at least a couple of times. Parents hold up their children to give them also a chance to clank the bell, thereby proclaiming to Ma Kali that they have arrived, that they exist. Countless bare feet shuffle over the cool, smooth marble tiles. Occasionally one steps on something slippery and wonders what it is. Perhaps it’s a flower, spilled water, something indefinable that is better not to know. Whatever it is, one will never know because there is no chance to see the ground. There are too many bodies, pushing, pressing and crowding like moths in the night toward a light that is still a little farther off.</i></blockquote><blockquote><i>Everyone’s focus is on the lighted entrance in the middle of the covered veranda. A cast-iron gate prevents people from entering, so they crowd before it, half hanging over it, trying to get a little closer inside. Some people kneel, reach through the gate and touch the ground within the sanctum. Immediately behind the gate stand two priests keeping watch. There white dhotis bear the marks of their profession-red sandalwood paste, vermilion and flower stains. Their foreheads are marked with large vertical lives of vermilion, the signs of a male Shakti worshipper-women wear large vermilion dots. Pilgrims hand their baskets of offerings to attending priests, who take the hibiscus garlands and expertly fling them into the lighted inner sanctum at Mother Kali’s feet. Basket in hand, each priest disappears inside, utters some mantras over the basket and offers it to Mother Kali with reverence. A few sweets from each basket stay with Ma Kali in a box next to the altar. The rest of the offerings, together with flowers taken from the altar, are returned to the pilgrim. These returned offerings are called prasad and considered a great blessing. God has taken the first bite-eaten the subtle essence of the food-and the devotee, swallowing the gross elements of the food, takes the second. Anxiety has reached a fever pitch, and the short distance walk from the arched passageway to the lighted inner sanctum seems to take forever. But, when one finally stands before Kali, time seems to stand still. Everything stops. The people, the noise-all is mysteriously gone. One stares with wide eyes, forgetting even to blink. All one sees is Kali and nothing else.</i></blockquote>Nobody can define Kali, the mystical black goddess. My book is just a blueprint, an attempt to take people a little closer to the realm of Kali. After a talk in a Berkeley bookshop, one person came to me and said, “When you talk about Kali, you talk about love, whereas I and my group look at Her as a militant, liberated woman. She kills all the demons single-handedly. How do you reconcile the two views?” Pointing to the garland of skulls Mother Kali is wearing, I used an observation Betty Lundsted, my publisher, made some time ago. When you look closely at the severed heads, you see that they are all smiling. They are smiling because Ma Kali killed their egos. After they were liberated, only love remained.<br />
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The heart is such a small place. God and the ego cannot coexist there. If one is there, the other has no room.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com17