ashram life

I'm a ghost.

Ten days into India and I’ve moved out of the expensive but lovely Haveli Hari Ganga and into an ashram that Kaushal is somehow connected to. Seems like there’s no pilgrims here, only staff, but I can’t tell. No one speaks English, no one has the least interest in me. Kaushal’s introduced me to Bandari, the cook, and Bandari’s supposed to make sure I'm OK.

And so I move about the ashram as if it were my personal palace, for indeed it's a lovely place. In the 2 weeks I was there, I didn't have a single conversation with anyone, except the Madam, the very rich Malaysian woman who built this ashram for her Guru.

She dominates the atmosphere in very odd ways when she's there, but she lets me use the hot water in her room for bathing and mostly she's away anyhow. I continue to wordlessly glide around.

My room is simple, but has a table and sofa and 2 chairs and I'm very comfortable. The ashram is spacious and quiet. Three floors with a large meditation room on the ground floor and a beautiful marble temple in back.

Initially I'm eating most of my meals at the ashram. Tasty, always with chapati and usually rice. Always with dhal though sometimes it's closer to gruel. One time Kaushal comes to eat with me and jokes that this is what they serve in prison. Earlier on, there were some green vegetables, but that changed to potatoes with hints of cauliflower and sometimes fried potatoes or nothing at all. I started to desperately miss vegetables. It took me a couple of days to both realize and explain that indeed I don't care about meat, but I need vegetables. More and more Kaushal started bringing me over to his house for great homestyle vegetable dishes, including organic veg as available. Both he and his wife are great cooks and she's so genuinely welcoming, I've become part of the family. Their young son calls me Auntie and is popping out the English words. If I don't see them for a day, they miss me and I them. I have a family. Of which you will be hearing more.

Meanwhile my days at the ashram developed a rhythm. Chai in the morning and 1 hour of hard yoga followed by 1 hour of meditation with brief prayers at the Ganges between. Hey, did I happen to mention that this ashram is on the Ganges and across the river is unspoiled forest? Did I happen to mention that my meditation takes place in the center of the dome of a beautiful marble temple with intricate statuary all over and in which I'm completely left alone? Did I happen to mention that a 2 week stay at the ashram, with food, cost me not quite $80? Did I happen to mention I'm very happy?

I never know what's coming up next in India. At first I was uncomfortable in my visible, invisible role in ashram life, but I began to love the freedom from interaction. It took me longer than expected to enjoy mixing the rice and dhal with my fingers before putting it in my mouth. I had to remind myself that I was actually getting to play with my food. Now I fully understand when they say eating with fingers gives the actual taste which a spoon does not. As I write this I'm at a gigundo mega ashram that offers tours of the facilities and the first day I turned the corner to see a giant bunny rabbit holding a trash can. Today I found the frog trash bin.

At the ashram, I used to walk into town to get bottled water and toilet paper. First down my neighborhood dirt road, subtly peering into people's daily lives, then down the next road with the goats, pigs and cows, then past the fancy ashram with an 85 yr old French psychologist guru, then past the large Shiva temple with a Bodhi tree to which pilgrims from all over come and then into town. I wish I could take you all on a walk with me.