My Amritapuri Experience: Part 3

[Guest guest]

Continued from Part 2...

 

The roads began to get narrower and the ride became more bumpy. I

guessed that we were approaching Amritapuri. My American companion

had woken up from his nap by now, seemingly refreshed. He immediately

entered into a discussion with me on how much each of us was to pay

for the cab ride. I had called up the ashram office from overseas and

booked a vehicle to ferry me to the ashram and at that time they had

indicated that I was to pay 1200 Indian rupees or so for the service.

Since that was what I had contracted over the telephone I was

prepared to pay that amount without making a big deal out of the fact

that I had to share the cab with another person. Since in my view,

the charge was not exorbitant, the amount was small and it was after

all going to charity of one kind or another I was prepared to pony up

the full share.

 

However my American friend was very keen to work out some kind of

sharing arrangement so that the burden could be reduced, possibly by

half. Knowing that my friend's financial condition was significantly

inferior to my own, I sympathized with his attempts to derive some

economy from the transaction but I was also not comfortable with the

ethical implications of striking a private arrangement that would end

up depriving the ashram of a legitimate due. I did not wish to start

my visit to Amma on such a note of dubious economy. It seemed clear

to me that our dharmas in this matter were different since our

conditions were different. So I suggested that he pay whatever he was

comfortable with but that I did not intend to haggle. Anyway it

turned out that the money had to be paid at the ashram office and not

to the driver so an adjournment was forced on us.

 

Our taxi stopped outside the front gate and we made our way inside on

foot. It had been raining, not right then but before, and I carefully

negotiated the puddles with my luggage. The American had nothing to

carry except his pillow and blanket and he bounded off, like a

rabbit, after saying good-bye. Before leaving he pointed out the

building where he was staying and told me that was the building where

most of the visitors from outside India were usually housed. I had

made enquiries before my departure and had been told that the Western

Acco was the thing to take.

 

It was way past midnight and there did not seem to be too many people

about. I asked someone for directions to the office and was pointed

one way. I lugged my bag and walked that way only to be redirected in

another direction. The fun of the taxi ride had clearly ended.

Delicately stepping over puddles while carrying heavy luggage in the

middle of the night was not my favourite thing to do, obviously.

Eventually I found the acco office, at the foot of the temple. There

did not seem to be anyone on duty there. I was starting to get a

little concerned. Was nobody expecting me here? If they sent a cab to

pick me up surely they should have someone at the office to process

my accomodation? No such luck. This was no hotel, it was becoming

clear.

 

I knocked on the wooden door of the office and after a while a

brahmachari opened the door. He was bearded (I did not know then that

all the brahmacharis looked like that) and rather sullen, having

apparently woken up from sleep. I explained who I was and where I had

come from and made it a point to stress that I wanted the Western

accommodation and that money was no object. He asked me what passport

I held and I had to tell him that it was Indian but I stressed that I

was a permanent resident of country X in the expectation that I would

be granted the acco normally given to foreign visitors. He turned a

little hostile and began to interrogate me, "The Western acco is for

Westerners. Are you a Westerner?" I had to say no. I tried to explain

that while I still held an Indian passport I had been living outside

India for many years but my explanations did not appear to be cutting

much ice with him. I was starting to get exasperated and also

embarrassed. I thought to myself, "Why is my precise status in my

country of domicile so important to this matter? If I am willing to

pay, why can't I have what I want?"

 

To be continued in Part 4...

 

Om Amriteshwaryai Namah

 

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