My Amritapuri Experience: Part 6

[Guest guest]

Continued from Part 5...

 

I woke up early in the morning (early by my lax holiday standard, not

the stringent Amritapuri standard) around 6.30am feeling fine and

rested. My sleep had been deep and uninterrupted, a minor surprise

given that the physical conditions were less than sublime. Actually I

ought to amend that. Contrary to the impression I may have lent so

far, the conditions, for sleep at least, were not all that bad. I

forgot to mention earlier that there was a ceiling fan in the room

which worked. However the night was cool so I only had to run it at

a very slow speed.

 

More importantly, I was spared an attack by the Amritapuri Air Force

(mosquitoes!). Amma's grace? Possible, but in this case I thought it

likely that Amma's grace was working more at the back-end than the

front-end of the phenomenon. The more classical explanation suggested

by my years spent battling mosquitoes in Kerala was that these

aviators, unlike those currently poised over the Persian Gulf who are

capable of working round the clock, tend to 'Shock and Awe' at

specific times of day/night (6am, 6pm and midnight being the usual

timings when attacks are launched). Oops! Did I make an inadvertent

political comment there? Sorry.

 

On second thoughts, I must censure myself more severely. That was a

poor joke. I should probably have erased it but decided to let it

stand as a monument to my own crassness. It is never a good thing to

find humour, even peripherally as I did just now, in suffering. One

must always sympathize with the sufferings of others. One is

permitted to laugh at one's own sufferings, but who has the stomach

for that? Not me for sure; everytime life has walloped me, I have

found my tail between my legs.

 

Coming back to my (non-)story, the trials of the night were now a

faint memory. I was upbeat enough to actually use the much detested

toilet. After a bath, I stepped out to inspect the world. I made my

way, once again, to the accommodation office. This time the person on

duty was an elderly man addressed by all as 'Achan' (the Malayalam

term for 'father' used in a general way to respectfully address old

people by nearly all ashram residents; having never come across this

practice anywhere else before I found it quaint). I briefly explained

my situation to him and sought his help. He was extremely helpful and

sorted out my problem in no time.

 

He explained that the one-room apartment which I had heard about and

wished to stay in was usually reserved for foreign passport holders

or families - be they Indian or foreign. I guessed that foreign

residents holding Indian passports such as myself who come visiting

sans family fell between the cracks; either there were not enough

people in this category or, more likely, such members as did exist

were less demanding (and therefore better 'sadhaks') than I was. Now

here was a commentary on my year and half of carefully cultivated

austerity (turning vegetarian etc etc): It didn't amount to a thing!

I had flunked the exam right then.

 

This 'Achan' invited me to bring my luggage down from my room and

park in his office until the Western acco office opened at 11am. He

would make an exceptional recommendation and have them allot me an

apartment. Whew! I gratefully accepted his offer of assistance and

returned to his office with my luggage in tow. When I had settled

myself in his office, I chatted with him when he was not serving any

devotees at the counter. He made a lot of sympathetic noises about my

predicament and went out of his way to make me feel good but in my

heart I was ashamed that I had taken the soft option, sought and

obtained privilege.

 

Even at that early stage, before I had interacted with other

ashramites and come to appreciate the rigours of the monastic life, I

sensed that his empathy was a product of pure compassion; it could

not have been an objective position as my so-called suffering was

next to nothing compared to what the 'brahmacharis'

and 'brahmacharinis' undergo on a 24/7/52 basis. I felt humbled and

doubly grateful at being granted consideration that I did not really

deserve.

 

Further conversation revealed that 'Achan' had been with Amma for 18+

years. It was now clear to me that the compassion and power of

accommodation that he manifested (and I was privileged to observe)

did not merely arise because he was sitting in the 'Accommodation

Office' but was a function of his long exposure to the mother lode of

compassion - Amma.

 

To be continued in Part 7...

 

Om Amriteshwaryai Namah

 

fg