India Diary, 1996

[Guest guest]

As promised, I'm sharing portions of my '96 India

diary. After our aborted flight to Trivandrum, our

group spent three days in Singapore. On our last

evening there, we attended a puja held at the Kali

Temple there. Here are the comments

I wrote about the experience at the time.

 

It was all very primitive in some way. I don't

know if primitive is the right word. It had great

power and there was somehow a deep poignant feeling

of familiarity, especially when standing in the

midst of Indians and getting the body smells,

which are very different from those of Americans.

I wondered how many lifetimes I had spent in

temples like that. Perhaps the correct thing to

say in terms of the word "primitive" is that

it evoked very old feelings (primitive?) in me.

There was such a poignancy. I think "old" is a

better word--perhaps "ancient" is even better.

It was all so anciently familiar somehow. I found

myself wanting to cry without quite knowing why, as

at a conscious level I didn't know exactly what

they were doing and I thought the two fairly

young (30's) brahmins (whom I identified by the

sacred threads they were wearing) looked rather

bored. That wasn't true of the old priest or

the others involved.

 

I was surprised at the casual family atmosphere,

with groups of people sitting together chatting, etc.

It seems to be the way things are done for a

family unit to bring limes, flowers, and a yellow,

canned, solid oil (ghee?) to the temple. They

spread out a newspaper on the floor, then set out

their tray (usually silver) to place the offering

on. They then proceed to cut the uneven tops and

bottoms off the outside of the limes, cut them in

half, and VERY painstakingly cut the sections out

of the inside and scoop it clean, leaving little

empty lime "bowls," which they fill with the yellow

canned stuff to burn. They decorate the tray with

flowers and what appears to be red kum kum powder.

Usually the design is in a circle.

 

There are small family groups in all corners of the

temple chatting quietly as they prepare these

offerings. The phrase I had often read, "I will

go to the temple and make an offering," took on

a new meaning for me, as I see they actually do

MAKE the offering. I always thought the term

"make" just meant to place it on the altar. The

process seems to take quite a while. Then the

finished product is placed on a cart and the wicks

lighted. There are many of these offerings on the

cart, and it is incredibly beautiful with the fire

and flowers, etc.

 

When the burning is all finished--which must take

a long time, like at least an hour or two--the tray

is carried over to this other spot. I found myself

wondering if one stays at the temple all the time

one's offering is burning. I had the impression

they do, joining other family groups, chatting,

admiring babies, etc. It was all very

family-centered.

 

The puja itself was accomplished by much chanting,

fire and smoke, blowing of the trumpet, beating

of drum and monotonous clanging of a bell. There

were all these different representations of Kali

(I guess--not like the Kali I'm used to) around

the temple--three at the front and center, two

or three on the right side (no particular order

to these unpracticed eyes), two along the left

corridor to the rear of the temple where the

most familiar (to me) Kali was. The priests had

to go to all of them during the puja--as I said in

no discernable order to me--(which means nothing.)

Also, while the top of the temple was roofed,

the top was open along the corridors along the side,

and birds, resembling English sparrows, were

flying in and out throughout the ceremony,

twittering merrily. It definitely had that

"live and let live" ambience of India.

 

S. paid for us all to have pujas, which cost

$10 (S) each. We received a yellow slip of paper

that was perforated with a receipt on one side.

Our (Sanskrit) names were written in Indian script

on them. When we saw everyone else handing their

yellow slips to the priest, we handed ours too,

keeping the receipts. Then at the end of the

puja, when they handed out the prasad, we presented

our receipts and were given a very small banana

(3-4 inches long) wrapped in what looked to me like

two laurel leaves and red flower petals. We ate

the bananas in the temple. They were very good,

sweet and firm, with no spots.

 

We arrived around 6 p.m. and left around 8 p.m.,

walking many blocks through "Little India" to a

main thoroughfare to catch a cab back to our

hotel. Our strange-looking group certainly

attracted more attention in the streets (just

looks) than we had in the Kali temple, where we

felt very welcome. Yes, there were some curious

looks in the temple, but the overall feeling was

one of being very accepted and well-treated.

 

Your Scribe in Amma,

Jyotsna

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[Guest guest]

--- Ellen Lamb <jyotsna2 wrote:

> As promised, I'm sharing portions of my '96 India

> diary.

 

Thanks for sharing your India diary. I spent New

Year's day 1996 at an ashram established by Swami

Kripalvananda (1913-1981; the "grandfather" of the

Kripalu lineage) in Malav, Gujarat. This was before I

met Amma, remember!

 

Here's an excerpt from my India journal for Jan. 1,

1996

 

"A quiet day just hanging out in Malav. Only four

years away from the 21st century, this is one part of

India, this rural backwater that the 20th century has

almost ignored. Did some Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya

japa at Bapuji's [swami Kripalvananda]

tomb/crypt/mahasamadhi temple. Feels good to just

_be_ here, not do anything but take in this root of

Kripalu. Great food both here and at Kayavarohan,

ifyou like chappatis, rice, curried begs and dahl.

Malav is so small it soesn't have a P.O., though there

is a State Bank of India and at least one spot where

you can get a Thums Up, if not a Coke..."

 

Also that day, I was trying to listen to the Rose Bowl

on Armed Forces Radio, but couldn't pick it up on my

little shortwave radio. That was the year perennial

Big Ten doormats Northwestern played in the Rose Bowl.

(I always figured something radical would have to

happen before I could go to India, like Northwestern

going to Pasadena for the first time ever!!)

 

 

Keval

 

 

 

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