Letter # 4 - Neither Here nor There
“The time spent in the ashram at first was random and unfocused. I felt nothing spiritual either in myself or the ashram temple or the samadhi (burial site) of Sri Ramana Maharshi. It was all rather odd and disconcerting. There was a momentary thought to move on to Goa which I had heard about as a tourist spot, and it was in the general direction of where I had previously intended, but that thought vanished almost immediately and what I was left with was a blank space from which no thoughts could arise. That momentary thought happened on the third night while I lay on the lumpy bed in the cell.
I felt interrogated by some unknown presence and found myself suddenly in despair at the awfulness of my situation, the unresolved conflicts left behind in my homeland, and my sense of inadequacy. There was no way I could dismiss the sudden avalanche of negative emotions and thoughts which vied for attention.”
Little did I realise that after stepping outside the ashram gates, the next months would test my resolution to persevere with this seemingly precipitous change of direction. Though I was calm and meekly accepted all that happened to me, it was not what was originally planned in the greater scheme of events. My initial plan on departing from Australia was to travel to England on the then-popular overland route through Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran and Turkey. Yet here I was in a rural setting far from the vistas of the Taj Mahal among other famous sites.
It only got worse with the accommodation which was found for me by Raja, the ashram postman, God bless him. Raja had been a fixture at the ashram for many decades. From Bhagavan’s day, he was a constant presence who helped those visitors who arrived disorientated and needing practical guidance. Raja brought me to Marpillai Bungalow some ten minutes’ walk from the ashram. It was a dark place with some small rooms but at least it had a bed, a toilet, and running water. Raja also found me a place to eat one meal a day with Rajapalayam Ramani Ammal, an extraordinary person. It was all well and good to locate a place to stay but what to do with each day as it passed?
I am not sure how most people managed who first came to Arunachala. The days passed in a combination of bewilderment (what am I doing?) and ennui, coupled with small excursions into town some two kilometres away to eat tiffin of idli and dosa or a meal of rice, at the Udipi Hotel or Vasanta Bhavan Hotel. Food at other times generally consisted of porridge made on a small kerosene stove which I bought.
The time spent in the ashram at first was random and unfocused. I felt nothing spiritual either in myself or the ashram temple or the samadhi (burial site) of Sri Ramana Maharshi. It was all rather odd and disconcerting. There was a momentary thought to move on to Goa which I had heard about as a tourist spot, and it was in the general direction of where I had previously intended, but that thought vanished almost immediately and what I was left with was a blank space from which no thoughts could arise. That momentary thought happened on the third night while I lay on the lumpy bed in the cell. I felt interrogated by some unknown presence and found myself suddenly in despair at the awfulness of my situation, the unresolved conflicts left behind in my homeland, and my sense of inadequacy.
There was no way I could dismiss the sudden avalanche of negative emotions and thoughts which vied for attention. The next moment I found myself flat on the floor in full prostration towards Arunachala on the cold cement floor, crying the tears that evidently had been pent up over the past years when my life and behaviour were far from perfect. What a mess I seemed to have made of my life!
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