Sandy Does The Subcontinent

I hadn’t expected that nearly all the westerners on the backwater jungleboat ride from Alleppy to Kollam would disembark at the Amritapuri ashram but that’s exactly what happened. I guess Amma (aka The Hugging Saint) has gotten herself quite a reputation. It increased my cynicism about the whole endeavor being a thinly viewed scan aimed at spiritually bankrupt whities. I am suspicious, to say the least, of Americans and Europeans who can only find fulfillment – including spiritual meaning – in the Exotic Other, and teachers who cater to this audience are difficult for me to take seriously. It didn’t help that as we walked to the check in office, every western white-clad devotee had that annoyingly self-conscious “look how serene and blissed out I am – look!” somber half smile that I seriously started to want to slap off people’s faces in Thailand.

Mary and I were assigned our own room on the ninth floor of one of the non-Indian acccommodation buildings, where we settled in after picking up sheets from the bedding office on the ground floor. Nearly 2,000 people live on the premises, in pink highrise buildings surrounding the main temple. Our room was airy and simple, with a window overlooking a wide swath of coconut palms and the Arabian Sea beyond.

It wasn’t until evening that I started to feel a certain spiritual current running through the place itself. It happened when I was sitting on the beach during evening meditation time, as a thunderstorm approached. The sky and sea were painted in dramatic tones of gray. I counted prayers on my beads while watching the sea rise and fall behind a rough stone wall. And for just a moment, something opened up and I heard a rhythm behind it all, a rhythm behind the roll of the sea, the thunder, the pattern of the words in the Hail Mary – the same rhythm underlying everything, linking it all together…a song of God.

That night there was another kind of sea – one of white-clad women sat cross-legged on the floor of the cathedral-like main temple singing bhajans (traditional devotional songs). I can see now how people could get very, very high on a practice like that. Even though I obviously couldn’t understand the words, when I closed my eyes and let myself merge with the music, I couldn’t help swaying along to it and a few times had a strong urge to lift up my arms in praise and thanks, as the saying goes. I’m pretty sure I had one of those dumb blissy smiles on my face, too.

The next day was Kerala’s Vishu (astrological New Year). I got up at 4am to go to a special viewing of the Divine Mother, which turned out to be an Amma doll and giant photo plus statue of another goddess (not sure which one) surrounded by candles, flower, piles of offerings, and even though this sounds hokey it wasn’t at all. The shrine was beautiful and it was moving to see the glow of love as each devotee approached to prostrate themselves.

Oh, I forgot to mention there’s a superstition that whatever is the first thing you see when you open your eyes on Vishu, is how your year will go, so people make elaborate shrines using symbolic objects and colors. I did my own but then the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was light coming in between the wall and curtain by my bed. I immediately thought that I could do worse this year than to have new light flowing in through a break in the darkness.

After Archana (chanted recitation of the 1,000 names of the Divine Mother), Mary and I had breakfast and gave some thought to our next move. We had planned to get back on the jungleboat ride, continuing down to Kollum, spend the night there and the next day work our way through Trivandrum and down to Kanyakumari (at the tip of India). That’s not what we ended up doing but I’ll save that for next time since this is already way longer than you should be expected to read.

I’d just like to say that even though I was a bit cynical to start off with, Mary and I both left Amritapuri feeling really positive about the ashram and about Amma. It was fascinating to see both men and women from all over the world dedicating themselves to following an embodiment of female energy. We were glad Amma hadn’t been there because it was much quieter than it would have been otherwise, but her embracing spirit of compassion and service was unmistakably present. I’m really looking forward to going to the east bay when she gives darshan in June.

Not a particularly interesting day but an example of a typical travel day, to give you an idea of how long the days are and why it already feels like we’ve been here for months…

I woke up at 4am and lay there listening to the bird song madness outside until it was light, when I got up and went to the 7am Malayalam mass at the Basilica. When I got back Mary and I had breakfast but I was defeated again in my request for idly (ground fermented rice cakes with sauces that are a typical south Indian breakfast). Then we packed, said goodbye to the glorious Vasco homestay, and got in an auto bound for the central bus station, where we quickly found a local bus to Alleppey. I had a Howard Hughes moment in the bus station bathroom (blog to follow soon about these moments).

The bus ride was an easy two hours. We went to the government tourist office right by the station in Alleppey and booked tickets for the southbound backwaters boat the next morning, confirmed the location of a good guesthouse nearby, and got a recommendation for where to eat lunch.

The guesthouse had a nice big room available so we checked in, relaxed for a bit, then walked to the restaurant, which was packed with locals eating thali – a meal of rice and lots of different sides and sauces all served on a banana leaf. My favorite part is you get to eat with your hand. One of the servers kept stopping by and making ‘mixing together’ motions with his hand while smiling encouragingly. I say “hand” because you only eat with your right hand as the left is typically your poo hand but more about that later (yes, it’s related to the Howard Hughes moments).

After lunch we went on a three-hour tour of the backwaters – just Mary and me on this tiny covered boat driven by a guy with a canoe paddle. It was slow but quiet and we got to go down a narrow shaded waterway that was basically a residential street where the houseboats and bigger engine boats can’t go.

When we got back, it started to rain during walk to the Internet place and by the time I’d bought my return ticket to Delhi (we’re flying back from Trivandrum on Thursday), there was a massive, showoff-y thunderstorm going on outside, so we had to get an auto to the restaurant we’d decided on for dinner, but as soon as we were on the way I realized my scarf had fallen off my head and not just any scarf but my Very Favorite Silk Scarf, which I imagined had come off in the shuffle of trying to get through the downpour, around the mud lakes, and into the auto, and the frustration of that almost brought on a mini travel crisis but then Mary found it in the auto and I was happy again.

We had red meat (!! me – beef, Mary – mutton) malasa at Kreme Korner which was a nice middle-class family restaurant, and Mary was happy because we finally got basmati rice instead of the big fat rice they usually serve. When we got back to the guesthouse, they had set out candles for us since the storm was causing a brown out, leaving our room with only one weak light and a slowly turning fan. So we each showered by candlelight (yay another new experience compliments of India!) and ate the cold candy bars we’d brought back from the restaurant. Then we went to sleep.

The end.

Next stop: Amritapuri ashram

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