Kalbelia Dancers

Learning To Fly

Savitri Temple overlooking Pushkar

Sadhu

AUM BHOOR BHUWAH SWAHA,TAT SAVITUR VARENYAMBHARGO DEVASAYA DHEEMAHIDHIYO YO NAHA PRACHODAYAT

Oh God! Thou art the Giver of Life, Remover of pain and sorrow,The Bestower of happiness,Oh! Creator of the Universe,May we receive thy supreme sin-destroying light,May Thou guide our intellect in the right direction

Women of Rajasthan

Rajasthan

We rolled into rajasthan on a late afternoon breeze. The sun, shining behind an isolated hill that shot up from the desert horizon like a carefully sculpted shrine, painted the sky in silky pastel hues. Wooden carts pulled by sometimes lavishly decorated camels passed by with seemingly euridite expressions on their faces. Trotting along, the bells on their ankles created a steady rhythm, one much more earthly and comforting than that created by the roar of the diesel engine and the grinding of the transmission as the bus driver shifted gears - dodging cows, shepherds, pedestrians, head-on traffic, and the very camels that I just spoke of.
We passed by local villagers working the land. Women in bright red dresses embroidered with silver beads and small round mirrors, and men in loose, light cotton clothing with rather large turbans wrapped around their heads...children walking home for the day from school in the uniforms, laughing and talking amongst each other. The younger ones play together in the dusty fields with sticks, rocks, insects, animals, and whatever else catches their attention. The air, crisp and cool, is invigirating.

India, very much microcosom of the present social, economic, political, and environmental state of the planet, is a land of contrast. Rajasthan is no exception. Just as the vibrant blue skies are accentuated by the barren, arid landscape and rocky hills, complementing on another in their opposing textures - elaborate palaces and tamples co-exist in harmony with the simple dwellings made of mud, straw, stone, and dung. Shanty towns and shawdy cement constructions co-exist with luxurious five star hotels. Kings and priests, descendants of lineages and bloodlines thousands of years old, co-exist with peasants, gypsies, laborers, merchants, and international tourists. And not to forget the multitude of cultural and religious traditions which live together here..Hindu, Christian, Muslium, Buddhust, Jain...for the most part peacefully, and only occasionally in disturbing outbreaks of obscene violence.

It is a community of human and animal - monkeys, ravens, elephants, dogs, camels, pigeons, cats, cows, rats, snakes, and god knows what else, living together amidst the stone rubble and tatered pages of the traditions of the past and the ever increasing chaos and convenience of modern life. It is not rare to see a rickshaw driver, most of whom sleep in their small 3 wheeled vehicles, with mobile phones. Every few kilometers Internet access and ATM's are found just nearly as often as the many temples and open aired banquet halls made for the multitude of marriages (both arranged and "love") that occur daily in the busteling city of Jaipur, Rajasthans capital.

The charm of this city, home to over 2 million people and 10,000 cows (not an official count), could be a bit hard to discern at first glance. Especially by the weary traveler, tired from marathon bus and./or train rides and transglobal flights, the constant haggeling over prices for food, housing, and transportationm and the aggressive retailers, and beggars, who pester foreigners with a voracious appetite for the foreign currency that generously translates into the rupees that overflow from their pockets and hidden money belts. That was me...i was that weary traveler...but by no means can I claim that experience as something exclusively my own. For, I can say with certainty that all who have been called to explore India from afar have felt this. For some it passes...they begin to catch the rhythm and learn to move in sync with the chaos of it all, becoming a transformative, mind expanding experience...for others it does not. They leave disillusioned and tired, with a suitcase full of beautiful fabrics, a belly full of parasites and perhaps a few nice photos of cows, temples, and sadhus, never wishing to return. I came back. Although I have had moments, upon first arriving, when I wondered why I chose to subject myself again to the insanity that danced around me, I now remeber why I came...or rather...am being reminded just what it is i came looking for.

After a few days of waundering deleriously through the streets of Jaipur, and a few nights of much needed rest to recover from the intensity of my Amaravati experience, there was a shift. Driving along in the rickshaw, through the heart of the afternoon traffic i realized that oddly enough, I was completely relaxed. Instead of seeing only the crumbeling walls and the piles of cow dug and putrifying garbage littering the streets and alleyways, the lack of sanitation, the throngs of people husteling about with seemingly no hope of any decent future...instead...I saw the smiles. I saw a sea of color, the vibrant patterns of the saris as much as the multicolored textures of the trash, that formed this vibrant three-dimensional mural. The horns, the shouts, the bells...became music. Much like Miles Davis lost in spontanous composition during one of his LSD inspired performances, the rhythm seemed non-existant...incoherent...but regardless you know it's there and it grabs you from the inside out...taking you deep inside, frustrating and teasing you, and finally liberating you all in the same moment. I had, after 17 days, finally arrived in India.

Kalachakra Tantra Initiation...Amaravati, India

5:00 AM. The loudspeakers begin…a start to the frenetic symphony of sounds that will ensue until well past sundown. A man chanting Sanskrit slokas, sacred verses recited in one of the worlds most ancient languages, will soon be joined by the deep polytonal chants of the Tibetan monks. The Muslim Call to Prayer weaves its way in and out of this diverse religious chorus. The more ambitious of local entrepreneurs has been encircling the campgrounds for about an hour with his own chant “dudh, dudh, dudh”…milk, milk, milk…This is the only time throughout the day that its possible to hear the gentle song of a few small birds offering their own obeisance’s to the new day... but not for long. The honking of rickshaws and their small, yet vocal, diesel engines steadily increases with the rising sun. The morning fog, a mixture of fresh dew and an extremely noxious mosquito spray, rumored amongst those from the Western countries to be DDT, adds to the intrigue of this mystical time of day.

Amaravati is a small village located along the Krishna River on the Deccan Plateau of Southern India. With roots dating back to around 2500 BC, this is a known area of Buddhist pilgrimage due to the footsteps of the Buddha that once marked these arid soils. It is also home to the highly regarded Buddhist Saint and scholar Nagarjuna whose discourses still echo on today after hundreds of years to inspire Buddhist seekers still today. It is here that an Initiation into the Kalachakra Tantra will be given by His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet, spiritual and religious leader of a country largely living in exile. This occasion is especially auspicious due to the fact that the Buddha himself was to have given the very first Kalachakra empowerment in this very location.

Fields typically used for local agriculture have been transformed into miles and miles of over 7 different campsites which will accommodate the estimated 60,000 to 100,000 attending the Initiation for the next 10 days, from January 3rd to January 16th. I am staying in Kelsang Camp, sharing a 3 room canvas tent with an American woman who has been traveling with her 12 year old son through Southeast Asia for the last 4 months and a freelance journalist who has reported on swimming with wild dolphins in Hawaii to uncovering American involvement in ethnic cleansing, genocide, and human rights violations in Africa. He has just come from the Congo, an area ravaged by civil war.

The accommodations are simple, but as with anything, especially in India where the socio-economic rainbow has more hues and shades than most other societies and the disparity between the rich and the poor is beyond comprehension, it’s all relative. There are at least 4 million people on the subcontinent that would consider the small metal cot and the fraying, mildewed canvas walls more of a home than they could ever hope for or have access to in this lifetime.

I emerge from the mosquito netting. My earplugs fell out hours ago, but my eye mask remained to shield my eyes from the fluorescent spotlights that illuminate the campgrounds during the entire length of the might, making the environment even more surreal…almost eerie. I put on my sandals and make my way to the toilet/ washing are about 3 minutes away. With so many people sewage was obviously an important issue. Unfortunately, the giant trucks which spend all day clearing out the multitude of underground cisterns simply travel a few kilometers outside of town and empty the fetid waste into random ditches and fields. In other words, many rural families will now have to deal with unwanted filth and contaminated groundwater. Especially in India, water is a highly precious resource.

Around 7am, after eating breakfast of spicy lentil soup with a chapatti (an Indian tortialla) for equivalent of about 25 cents at one of the many makeshift, roadside “restaurants” that have been erected for the event, I join in the steady stream of Tibetan monks and nuns, and laypeople of all ages, beggars, street vendors - their carts and wares, bicycles, rickshaws, dogs, cows, and khaki laden policemen on the half-mile walk to the giant, open-aired meeting hall where the teachings and the initiation will be given.

The chanting of the monks ebbs and flows, rising and falling in sound volume and in tone. Quietly seated atop the little scrap of cardboard that marks my space in the section marked for the foreigners, directly to the left of the main stage where the Dalai Lama will sit upon his throne and speak to the masses, I try my best to just be present and take in all I can from the strange elaborate ritual that is to unfold in front. At times I fall into a deep trance, my eyes closed, as the sound of the chanting vibrated through each cell of my body. Purifying the subtle environment and invoking various deities from the Tibetan pantheon of Gods and Goddesses, the chants create the appropriate conditions for initiation. Although only a select few high monks have access to the microphone, the devoted murmurs of the throngs of monks and nuns adds to the supernatural refrain The chanting will continue on until around 5 pm, with a break during the 2 to 3 hour discourse given by His Holiness, and a 1hour break for lunch.

***

What brought me to this event was more of an unconscious force than a conscious decision. I have always had a held a sence of reverence and awe towards these unique people, savoring the bits of wisdom I've found through random books and the special encounters with maroon and yellow clad monks on airplanes, on breezy mediterranean afternoons, and in my travels throughout India and Nepal. I cannot even begin to grasp the intricate ritual and belief system of the Tibetans, nor could i even pretend to imagine to look through their cultural lenses and see with their eyes. Yet, there are many simple yet subtle truths that saturate their tradition which I am compelled to sew into the fabric of the ever expanding quilt of my own experience.

During the 14 days that I was in Amaravati, beyond the series of events that unfolded during the teachings and blessing ceremonies of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, I found true initiation outside the confines of the elaborately decorated tent in which the teachings were held. Amidst the sewage, the masses of homeless deformed beggars, the environmental pollution, and various bouts with physical illness...I saw the colors of the world around me change with the state of my mind and the health of my body. It became so clear, in the intensity of it all, that how I choose to respond to the world around me generates either peace and tranquility or negativity and discomfort. One day i could float through the masses of humans, cow dung, and dust envoleped in a sence of wellbeing and a transcendant acceptance of all, not even hearing the loudspeakers invade the soundscape of my existence...and the next day...convinced I had truely reached hell on earth, the fire of my agitation left me restless and intollerant.

Almost a month has past since i left. The experience is still setteling inside of me. When I try to understand with my mind what exactly went on, it is not possible. I can only carry with me the feeling that I was witness to something so powerful that it is well beyond my grasp...and yet completely insignifigant at the same time.