My Journey into the Mystery of India by Fredrica R. Halligan

[Guest guest]

My Journey into the Mystery of India by Fredrica R. Halligan

 

What is it about dusty feet and sandals that correlates, in my mind at least,

with spiritual profundity? Back in the 1960s hearing the music of “Jesus Christ

Superstar,” I felt suddenly connected with the humanity of Christ. It was the

image of his dusty feet in sandals, walking in the desert, that made the

reality of the Divine intimately present for me. Dusty feet in sandals is a

good image of my recent trip to the subcontinent as well, made in fulfillment

of a longing I have had, for close to 40 years, to experience spiritual India.

Finally the opportunity arose for a 30-day retreat, and I spent the time in an

ashram called Prashanti Nilayam, “The Abode of Highest Peace,” in Puttaparthi,

a little town in southern India. After landing in Delhi in the middle of the

night, I asked a man in a khaki uniform how to find a taxi to the domestic

airport, for the next leg of my journey to Bangalore. Uniformed men seemed to

be everywhere. Later I learned that security was particularly tight in Delhi

that day (December 14) because there had just been a terrorist attempt to blow

up the Indian Parliament building. The attackers and a dozen or so policemen

had been killed. Newspaper pictures of grieving relatives aroused in me, coming

from the United States, a strong sense of solidarity, as the attack on the World

Trade Center had taken place just three months before. It is clear that global

unity must include a sense of participation with all humanity—in terror and

tragedy as well as in peace and cooperation. On a pilgrimage every small

coincidence is grist for the mill and insight comes by reflecting on the

smallest sychronicities. For me, the movie shown on the flight from Delhi to

Bangalore was a teaching story; it was a modern rendition of Dickens’s “A

Christmas Carol.” As a child growing up in relative poverty, I had been able to

identify easily with Tiny Tim; during this trip, as an American in India, I

could identify with Ebenezer Scrooge. I could now see clearly how the

materialistic worldview in which I have been immersed creates the economic

imbalance that is so unjust to the masses of people who live in the third

world. It was close to 9:00 a.m. when our plane landed in Bangalore. As the

taxi that I had reserved never arrived, I had to cope with the barrage of

all-too-willing helpers, and finally selected a driver named Ram. (Most Indians

seemed to be named after one or another of the gods and goddesses.) Seated in

the small white sedan, I surrendered to an incomparable visual treat, as

southern India unfolded itself before my eyes. It was rush hour in Bangalore

and there were, in addition to small cars and colorful rickshaws, motorcycles

everywhere. They were invariably driven by men, but some carried women in

beautiful saris riding side-saddle on the back. The ladies looked relaxed

despite their obvious vulnerability. These were people going off to work, many

presumably in the high-tech industries where much of the computer software for

the world is produced. As we reached the open countryside, I saw goats and

skinny dogs scavenging for food; tiny thatch roofed shacks and even smaller

shrines; hand painted floral decorations on everything; hot, dry landscape;

small children playing in the dust, happy as children worldwide can naturally

be; older children herding sheep or walking their bicycles to carry large

plastic water jugs from well to home; men using bicycles to carry big bundles

of sticks; women carrying huge bundles on their heads; chickens and roosters

running free; sacred cows munching undisturbed. Some of the little white Hindu

shrines were just large enough to hold a statue and a small platform for flower

offerings. More imposing was the one Muslim mosque I saw, complete with an array

of Moorish arches and irrigated gardens. The Catholic presence was sparse—just

one large church— but obvious in the orderly groups of school children in

uniform. Just before arriving at Puttaparthi, I saw a huge white statue of

Hanuman, the monkey god, gracing the side of the road. A large shrine to

Ganesha, the elephant-headed god, stood near the pedestrian gate to the ashram.

Prashanti Nilayam is the ashram of Sri Sathya Sai Baba, who is believed by his

millions of devotees to be an incarnation of the Divine. I had heard and read

many stories about him (see Seeds of Unfolding, Vol XVI, No. 3), but had no

idea what to expect of an ashram. This one held over 20,000 worshippers and

could sleep thousands in its simple dormitory rooms and large sleeping sheds. I

was assigned to a room for eight, where I was the only American. At various

times over the course of the month, I roomed with women from Poland,

Yugoslavia, Great Britain, South Africa, Malaysia, Russia and Canada. If we

could not find an interpreter, we used sign language to express ourselves. Five

hundred of us could be accommodated at one time in each of three canteens, men

on one side and women on the other. The meals were vegetarian, low cost and

nutritious. In this setting I happily adjusted and began my retreat. The

retreat was somewhat like the retreats I have known back in the United States,

but on a grand scale. There was silence, time for meditation, teachings, cold

showers and manual work. We learned to listen to the Seva Dals, who told us

what to do and where to go, what we could not do, wear or carry. Seva, work for

the benefit of others, is encouraged by the official ashram teachings, but is

strictly voluntary. Once I had overcome jet lag, I began by drying dishes:

hundreds of divided steel plates. That was my favorite manual work because it

was an opportunity to work side-by-side with an international contingent of

women who were all working freely in service of one another and for the welfare

of the entire ashram. Sometimes we sang together as we worked. One woman told me

that last Christmas they had served over a thousand dinners and she had been the

only dish washer! I enjoyed all the multi-national gatherings. I even joined the

Christmas choir—600 men and women from around the world, singing carols in

English and songs of praise that were often in Sanskrit. This too was

considered seva or service. Life in the ashram was very structured, but there

were no mandated activities. On some mornings I joined the devotees, who began

the day at 3:30 am. We woke up, showered and waited in line for omkar. While

waiting we could hear the separate bands of women and men who began devotional

singing at the Ganesha shrine and then processed around the ashram, singing

bhajans (songs of praise) in Hindi or Sanskrit to the lively accompaniment of

tambourines and clapping hands. The power of the mystical moment was first felt

in these predawn, chanting processions. The vibrations of the music provided a

ready induction to a gently altered state of consciousness. At 4:30 am, the

lines began to enter the mandir, the most sacred inner space of the temple.

Somewhere, a bell was rung. The lights went out. Guttural and deep, 21 “Oms”

were chanted, to the accompaniment of a little drumbeat. Following omkar,

breakfast was served, and after breakfast the schedule called us to enter the

huge darshan hall, where thousands of people gathered to see Sai Baba twice

each day. At 9:00 am, lilting music began and people craned their necks to get

their first glimpse of him. He opened the door of his residence and entered the

darshan hall, a little man, dark-skinned and elderly, with a great “poof” of

Afro-style hair and wearing a simple orange robe that reached to his bare feet.

He walked slowly, a little stooped. He exuded peacefulness and love. He stopped

to take letters from the people near the aisle, and sometimes exchanged a few

words with his devotees seated there. Unpredictably, he might joke,

occasionally reprimand, invite a devotee or a group in for a private interview

or materialize vibhuti (sacred ash) or some piece of jewelry as a special gift

and blessing. There is no scientific explanation for the materializations and

other miracles attributed to Sai Baba. I, like other scientists, went in

wondering, “What is this all about?” and came away convinced that Sai Baba is

no phony. I personally saw vibhuti pouring from his hand, and I experienced the

intense bliss that arises when he flashes his smile and raises his hand in

blessing. His love is palpable and potent. The love his people have for him is

equally intense. One bit of scientific evidence there is: Kirlian photography

has revealed his aura to be enormous, predominantly silver and gold, the

spiritual colors. The energy that pervades his being seems to be what draws so

many people to him and makes them feel blessed by just being in his presence.

While waiting in line or sitting in the darshan hall, the natural activity for

one on retreat is meditation. I chose to do a mantra meditation, aiming to come

as close as possible to the Biblical injunction to “pray unceasingly.” The

mantra I chose, called by Sai Baba the “king of the mantras,” was the Sanskrit

phrase “Vaasudevassarvam,” meaning “All this is God!” All circumstances

—whether joyful or challenging —are experienced in a new light when “All this

is God” accompanies our life’s journeys. Sai Baba teaches that the Atman or

sacred life within each of us is the same as the Transcendent Deity. In essence

all is One—union with the Divine is a natural fact of life. We, as limited human

beings, are simply not aware of the sacred nature of our innermost being. He

speaks to the longing in all human hearts for an available, yet universal God.

In his presence, these concepts become more real. For me, experiential

awareness gradually began to dawn. It seems that the energy of Spirit ennobles

and enriches the life of the pilgrim to Prashanti Nilayam. The energy of Sai

Baba did not overwhelm me at first, as I had thought it might. I came back from

my first darshan thinking: “Is this all there is?” But by the end of one week, I

was writing in my journal: “This morning after darshan I noticed significant

energy in my back, starting at the adrenals and stretching up, more and higher

on the right than on the left. What I most appreciate is the early morning time

alone. Today I reflected on how my life may be changing and how to incorporate

Sai Baba with what I already know.” By the end of a month I knew that the

subtle energies and feelings of bliss that I had been accumulating would be

with me forever. Life for me can never again be quite the same as it was

“before India.” On Christmas day Sai Baba gave a discourse. His energy was

heightened a thousand-fold and he seemed to shed 20 years. He sang a bhajan

first and then spoke of Jesus. To celebrate the birth of Jesus one should

practice his teachings, Sai Baba taught. He spoke too of the Buddha and the

importance of universal compassion. After his discourse, there was prasad

(gifts of sweets for the multitude), then bhajans, even more lively than the

usual afternoon devotional singing. We went away elated—a huge crowd of people

fully energized by his powerful spirit. Many more personal experiences touched

me during my month-long retreat in India. I came away healthier and stronger

than I had been, and brought back an expanded worldview for which I am most

grateful. My spiritual life had deepened and I felt a stronger commitment to

ongoing service and care for others. While I found it difficult to return to

our materialistic culture, I must admit the greatest luxury I appreciated when

I arrived at the hotel in Delhi was a hot bath to soak clean my dusty feet.

2002 Cafh Foundation. All rights reserved.

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