(no subject)
Lest I forget. During my trip to India, the few days spent at Dakshineshwar which is on the outskirts of Calcutta and on the banks of the Ganga (Hoogly as it is known there), was personally very important to me and an intensely moving experience. I do not want to not write and let the memories fade, as memories are wont to.
Reaching Dakshineshwar by bus and a shared auto from Calcutta, I quickly found a guesthouse just outside the temple courtyard, which seemed to be abuzz with activity. The first thing I did was drop all of my stuff in the room, had a quick shower and walked straight to the temple. If ever I felt like I was coming to a place that seemed like home, this was it. I really, honestly could not believe that this was the very place that I’ve read so much about, the very place where Ramakrishna himself walked, where Vivekananda learnt at the feet of his master during his young years, where the very same Mother that Thakur prayed to was, the place where he had all his visions, all his realisations. It was totally mindboggling.
And my feet just picked up pace, you know? I was so excited within, expectant, so so soo happy. Off came the flip-flops, bought some flowers and sweets outside as an offering and walked straight in. There was a police guard at the entrance of the temple courtyard which felt kind of strange to me, but who cared about these kind of things at the moment! There were quite a lot of people walking around and there it was the Kali temple, an imposing structure, exactly the same as it was during Ramakrishna’s times. Later I was told by a Swami that I met the next day that the tiles of the entire courtyard have not been changed from those times. It felt so awesome to be there, so grateful, so humble, so moving that my eyes were literally swimming with tears.
Within the main, walled courtyard, just before the Kali temple is a small Radha-Krishna temple and across on the right, in a row, are 12 even smaller identical shrines dedicated to Shiva. I headed straight for the Darshan of the Mother, the Enchantress that has captured the minds and souls of many a mystic saint. There was a small crowd at the main entrance through which the Goddess can be viewed. As I edged closer to see Her for the first time, I kept thinking that this was the very same figure before which Ramakrishna had in anguish jumped up ready to sever his own head because he could not have a vision of Her and then She had revealed Herself to him. There were calls of ‘Maaa!’ as those in front bowed their heads in reverence. It just made my hair stand on end and my hands quivered softly, as I waited impatiently. It was not loud shouts to draw the attention of the deity or even in joyous praise of the deity as is common in many Hindu temples. But soft drawn out calls, just as a child would call one’s own mother when in distress, almost piteous. For them it seemed, the statue was not a mere idol, but the Living Mother herself. Tears flowing, I finally stood before Her. Fierce and loving she was. I felt really blessed! And it is not often I have felt that way. Thankful for being brought there, so thankful for the moment. She who has revealed herself to others before me, I submitted myself before her, at least for that moment in the little way that I could, imperfect as I was. I fell to my knees and prostrated before the entrance.
It was only the next day that I found out that the day I had arrived and had darshan at Dakshineshwar happened to be Ramakrishna’s birthday. I was stunned. Coincidence or not, I was thrilled to bits. Maybe I am stupid, maybe it’s because lately I have stopped believing in coincidences, but I felt like I was brought there and it was a sign. I could have stayed at any one of the other locations a day less or day more and i wouldn't have arrived and seen Dakshineshwar for the first time on his birthday. The crowd at the temple on the day I arrived was caused by devotees who had come especially because it was the master’s birthday.
I walked around the courtyard, saw the deity of Krishna with the broken leg which Ramakrishna himself had fixed during his younger years, the Radha-Krishna shrine and all the shiva temples. I sat at the music hall which was open on all sides, directly facing the sanctum of the Kali temple, where Ramakrishna and his disciples often sang joyous kirtans and where he experienced samadhi countless times to the astonishment of the viewers. Sitting there, I could see the priests performing pooja at the shrine and soon an informal group of devotees gathered at the hall and began singing lovely kirtans in Bengali, which I didn’t understand a thing unfortunately. A man with a lovely voice led the Kirtan and it was wonderful.
Later as it became dark, I explored the outer gardens, just outside the courtyard, which had unfortunately become like public park with lots of vendors and lights and noise. A truly sorry state of affairs. The large garden was the holy place where Ramakrishna practised many of his austerities and it was reduced to a marketplace like atmosphere. Swami Bhajananda whom I met the next day said that although the Ramakrishna Mission had repeatedly tried to get the area cleared and sanctified, the vendors had political support and nothing could be done.
I didn’t get to see Ramakrishna’s room, the place where stayed for most of his life since he came to Dakshineshwar as a young priest, until the next day. It was dark and I did not know what I was supposed to be looking for.
The next day I woke up early and attended the pooja at the temple at 6am and then found Ramakrishna’s room. The verandah of the room looked right out into the Ganga. Here he stayed and received all his guests. He never had a private room that he retired to, a completely public life, bare to the core, no secrets to hide. With his closest group of devotees, he used to sit around completely naked, unconcerened as a child. The cot and pillow he used were still in the room and on the walls hung old pictures of gods and godesses and saints, to which were added the pictures of the first monks of the ramakrishna order, all of his direct-disciples. The room is open to the public who can sit and meditate. If it’s crowded on special days, visitors cannot stay for a long time so as to make way for others.
It was in this room that I caught the surprising sight of a shaven headed, white american monk clad in ochre robes, complete with rudraksha beads around his arms, a kamandalu (vessel to carry water) and even a danda (long stick). He sat down near me and left soon after to go inside the temple. Later, I met him in the outside garden and we got talking and he seemed a wonderful person. A pujari in a Kali temple in California, he comes to Dakshineshwar almost every year. It seems like I was not the only person who noticed him because he said that he saw me reading the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna in his room and which better place could you possibly read it than the very place much of it was uttered.
Meeting him was an amazing thing because he knew precisely what was where and took me on a tour of the grounds, showing the places where Ramakrishna practised various sadhanas, and other little unknown things like where the original stand of the Kali diety still stood etc. We shared lunch together and then he left to catch a Rs 7 ferry ride upstream and across the river to go to Belur Math, where the first monastery of the Ramakrishna order was established, and where he was staying.
I was supposed to meet him at the Math in the evening and so I took the lovely boat ride across too later on, but failed to locate him. The Belur Math is well-kept with lush green grounds and a beautiful main temple dedicated to Ramakrishna. . I bumped into the swami again though at the evening aarti at the temple. All the swamis and brahmacharis were seated in front, maybe 60 of them and he was among them. Behind them were all the visitors and the aarti was beautifully conducted, melodiously sung in unison by more than 200 people. The atmosphere reminded me of an old grand catholic church.
As I said earlier, I had at that time felt the strong conviction that there is no such thing as coincidence. About my meeting with Swami Bhajananada, I felt this too was no coincidence. He had already did me a wonderful favour by showing me the important places around the Dakshineshwar temple. The previous night I attemped asking someone at the garden about the trees (panchavati as it was called coz there were five of them, planted by Ramakrishna himself) under which Ramakrishna practised sadhana and no one had a clue. The Swami showed me where a tree still stood and other younger trees which were re-planted as saplings from the original trees which had died. He explained about and showed me where the master practised tantra and so much more. Without him, I would have been totally lost and much of the meaning of having visited a place like this would have been lost on me.
But what I treasure even more about meeting the Swami happened the next day at Belur Math. I did not know that Ramakrishna’s mortal remains were under the shrine at the main temple where the aarti was held until he told me. Ramakrishna had once told Vivekananda that wherever his disciple would take him on his shoulder, he would go and stay there. At the end of the Master’s life, Vivekananda himself bore his remains on his shoulder from the Cossipore house and placed it at the Belur Math and he said Ramakrishna would always be present here. No clue until the Swami told me. These kind of things make you see the same things that you would see otherwise but from a different perspective. Then Swami Bhajananda said he would take me to the room in which Swami Vivekananda passed away. This was in the monks’ quarters and I truly believe without meeting the Swami and without his help, I would never have known the existence of the room because there are no signs or anything. He led me up to the first floor of a building and emotionally I was like a vibrating tuning fork, completely overwhelmed as I climbed those stairs. We stood outside the window of the room, holding the metal bars looking in. There was the bed, slippers and other items used by Swami Vivekananda. I felt so sad. Really sad as if someone close to me had passed away and I missed the person so much. I wept uncontrollably standing there. I don’t know why I’ve always felt so close to Vivekenanda ever since I was a child. This was the room where he breathed his last. The white swami had by now saluted and was taking a reverential walk around the room. I prostrated still weeping and walked around the room as well. As I climbed down the steps from the room, the Swami turned around and asked me something and I couldn’t even answer because I was so choked up. That’s when he noticed my state and gave me such a kind understanding smile. After a few minutes we were talking again, trying to find our slippers, and he took me to the shrines which held the remains of some of the other direct disciples of Sri Ramakrishna. He also showed me the mango tree (it was a sapling of the original tree) under which Swami Vivekananda often sat and talked to his disciples and near which he asked his creamation to be done when he passed on.
This could go on for ever, but I stayed at Dakshineshwar for four days and it was truly a most emotionally and spiritually uplifting experience. Despite the busy atmosphere, the place, I personally believe, is a veritable minefield laden with spiritual vibrations. Truly it is said that any thought of spirituality anywhere in the world does not go to waste. Even more than a hundred years from the time of Sri Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda, the place is still able to completely change ur frame of mind if you are receptive towards it. A fire seemed to burn in me for much of my stay there and I think it will remain lit even if as a tiny spark, until the next time I visit that wonderful place again. It means so much to me and I don’t even know why.
Reaching Dakshineshwar by bus and a shared auto from Calcutta, I quickly found a guesthouse just outside the temple courtyard, which seemed to be abuzz with activity. The first thing I did was drop all of my stuff in the room, had a quick shower and walked straight to the temple. If ever I felt like I was coming to a place that seemed like home, this was it. I really, honestly could not believe that this was the very place that I’ve read so much about, the very place where Ramakrishna himself walked, where Vivekananda learnt at the feet of his master during his young years, where the very same Mother that Thakur prayed to was, the place where he had all his visions, all his realisations. It was totally mindboggling.
And my feet just picked up pace, you know? I was so excited within, expectant, so so soo happy. Off came the flip-flops, bought some flowers and sweets outside as an offering and walked straight in. There was a police guard at the entrance of the temple courtyard which felt kind of strange to me, but who cared about these kind of things at the moment! There were quite a lot of people walking around and there it was the Kali temple, an imposing structure, exactly the same as it was during Ramakrishna’s times. Later I was told by a Swami that I met the next day that the tiles of the entire courtyard have not been changed from those times. It felt so awesome to be there, so grateful, so humble, so moving that my eyes were literally swimming with tears.
Within the main, walled courtyard, just before the Kali temple is a small Radha-Krishna temple and across on the right, in a row, are 12 even smaller identical shrines dedicated to Shiva. I headed straight for the Darshan of the Mother, the Enchantress that has captured the minds and souls of many a mystic saint. There was a small crowd at the main entrance through which the Goddess can be viewed. As I edged closer to see Her for the first time, I kept thinking that this was the very same figure before which Ramakrishna had in anguish jumped up ready to sever his own head because he could not have a vision of Her and then She had revealed Herself to him. There were calls of ‘Maaa!’ as those in front bowed their heads in reverence. It just made my hair stand on end and my hands quivered softly, as I waited impatiently. It was not loud shouts to draw the attention of the deity or even in joyous praise of the deity as is common in many Hindu temples. But soft drawn out calls, just as a child would call one’s own mother when in distress, almost piteous. For them it seemed, the statue was not a mere idol, but the Living Mother herself. Tears flowing, I finally stood before Her. Fierce and loving she was. I felt really blessed! And it is not often I have felt that way. Thankful for being brought there, so thankful for the moment. She who has revealed herself to others before me, I submitted myself before her, at least for that moment in the little way that I could, imperfect as I was. I fell to my knees and prostrated before the entrance.
It was only the next day that I found out that the day I had arrived and had darshan at Dakshineshwar happened to be Ramakrishna’s birthday. I was stunned. Coincidence or not, I was thrilled to bits. Maybe I am stupid, maybe it’s because lately I have stopped believing in coincidences, but I felt like I was brought there and it was a sign. I could have stayed at any one of the other locations a day less or day more and i wouldn't have arrived and seen Dakshineshwar for the first time on his birthday. The crowd at the temple on the day I arrived was caused by devotees who had come especially because it was the master’s birthday.
I walked around the courtyard, saw the deity of Krishna with the broken leg which Ramakrishna himself had fixed during his younger years, the Radha-Krishna shrine and all the shiva temples. I sat at the music hall which was open on all sides, directly facing the sanctum of the Kali temple, where Ramakrishna and his disciples often sang joyous kirtans and where he experienced samadhi countless times to the astonishment of the viewers. Sitting there, I could see the priests performing pooja at the shrine and soon an informal group of devotees gathered at the hall and began singing lovely kirtans in Bengali, which I didn’t understand a thing unfortunately. A man with a lovely voice led the Kirtan and it was wonderful.
Later as it became dark, I explored the outer gardens, just outside the courtyard, which had unfortunately become like public park with lots of vendors and lights and noise. A truly sorry state of affairs. The large garden was the holy place where Ramakrishna practised many of his austerities and it was reduced to a marketplace like atmosphere. Swami Bhajananda whom I met the next day said that although the Ramakrishna Mission had repeatedly tried to get the area cleared and sanctified, the vendors had political support and nothing could be done.
I didn’t get to see Ramakrishna’s room, the place where stayed for most of his life since he came to Dakshineshwar as a young priest, until the next day. It was dark and I did not know what I was supposed to be looking for.
The next day I woke up early and attended the pooja at the temple at 6am and then found Ramakrishna’s room. The verandah of the room looked right out into the Ganga. Here he stayed and received all his guests. He never had a private room that he retired to, a completely public life, bare to the core, no secrets to hide. With his closest group of devotees, he used to sit around completely naked, unconcerened as a child. The cot and pillow he used were still in the room and on the walls hung old pictures of gods and godesses and saints, to which were added the pictures of the first monks of the ramakrishna order, all of his direct-disciples. The room is open to the public who can sit and meditate. If it’s crowded on special days, visitors cannot stay for a long time so as to make way for others.
It was in this room that I caught the surprising sight of a shaven headed, white american monk clad in ochre robes, complete with rudraksha beads around his arms, a kamandalu (vessel to carry water) and even a danda (long stick). He sat down near me and left soon after to go inside the temple. Later, I met him in the outside garden and we got talking and he seemed a wonderful person. A pujari in a Kali temple in California, he comes to Dakshineshwar almost every year. It seems like I was not the only person who noticed him because he said that he saw me reading the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna in his room and which better place could you possibly read it than the very place much of it was uttered.
Meeting him was an amazing thing because he knew precisely what was where and took me on a tour of the grounds, showing the places where Ramakrishna practised various sadhanas, and other little unknown things like where the original stand of the Kali diety still stood etc. We shared lunch together and then he left to catch a Rs 7 ferry ride upstream and across the river to go to Belur Math, where the first monastery of the Ramakrishna order was established, and where he was staying.
I was supposed to meet him at the Math in the evening and so I took the lovely boat ride across too later on, but failed to locate him. The Belur Math is well-kept with lush green grounds and a beautiful main temple dedicated to Ramakrishna. . I bumped into the swami again though at the evening aarti at the temple. All the swamis and brahmacharis were seated in front, maybe 60 of them and he was among them. Behind them were all the visitors and the aarti was beautifully conducted, melodiously sung in unison by more than 200 people. The atmosphere reminded me of an old grand catholic church.
As I said earlier, I had at that time felt the strong conviction that there is no such thing as coincidence. About my meeting with Swami Bhajananada, I felt this too was no coincidence. He had already did me a wonderful favour by showing me the important places around the Dakshineshwar temple. The previous night I attemped asking someone at the garden about the trees (panchavati as it was called coz there were five of them, planted by Ramakrishna himself) under which Ramakrishna practised sadhana and no one had a clue. The Swami showed me where a tree still stood and other younger trees which were re-planted as saplings from the original trees which had died. He explained about and showed me where the master practised tantra and so much more. Without him, I would have been totally lost and much of the meaning of having visited a place like this would have been lost on me.
But what I treasure even more about meeting the Swami happened the next day at Belur Math. I did not know that Ramakrishna’s mortal remains were under the shrine at the main temple where the aarti was held until he told me. Ramakrishna had once told Vivekananda that wherever his disciple would take him on his shoulder, he would go and stay there. At the end of the Master’s life, Vivekananda himself bore his remains on his shoulder from the Cossipore house and placed it at the Belur Math and he said Ramakrishna would always be present here. No clue until the Swami told me. These kind of things make you see the same things that you would see otherwise but from a different perspective. Then Swami Bhajananda said he would take me to the room in which Swami Vivekananda passed away. This was in the monks’ quarters and I truly believe without meeting the Swami and without his help, I would never have known the existence of the room because there are no signs or anything. He led me up to the first floor of a building and emotionally I was like a vibrating tuning fork, completely overwhelmed as I climbed those stairs. We stood outside the window of the room, holding the metal bars looking in. There was the bed, slippers and other items used by Swami Vivekananda. I felt so sad. Really sad as if someone close to me had passed away and I missed the person so much. I wept uncontrollably standing there. I don’t know why I’ve always felt so close to Vivekenanda ever since I was a child. This was the room where he breathed his last. The white swami had by now saluted and was taking a reverential walk around the room. I prostrated still weeping and walked around the room as well. As I climbed down the steps from the room, the Swami turned around and asked me something and I couldn’t even answer because I was so choked up. That’s when he noticed my state and gave me such a kind understanding smile. After a few minutes we were talking again, trying to find our slippers, and he took me to the shrines which held the remains of some of the other direct disciples of Sri Ramakrishna. He also showed me the mango tree (it was a sapling of the original tree) under which Swami Vivekananda often sat and talked to his disciples and near which he asked his creamation to be done when he passed on.
This could go on for ever, but I stayed at Dakshineshwar for four days and it was truly a most emotionally and spiritually uplifting experience. Despite the busy atmosphere, the place, I personally believe, is a veritable minefield laden with spiritual vibrations. Truly it is said that any thought of spirituality anywhere in the world does not go to waste. Even more than a hundred years from the time of Sri Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda, the place is still able to completely change ur frame of mind if you are receptive towards it. A fire seemed to burn in me for much of my stay there and I think it will remain lit even if as a tiny spark, until the next time I visit that wonderful place again. It means so much to me and I don’t even know why.