Pg 1, Tamilnadu Pg 2 Pg 3 Pg 4, Nadi Leaves Pg 5, Temples Kids_School Pg 6, Auro & Ramana Pg 7, Hosts/Final Day Pg 8, Photo Album
What was I up to?
Hospice work carried with it the promise that something of import would occur if I hung around death for a while. From a perspective of 25 years, and a little help from Castaneda http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlos_Castaneda, I can confirm the promise was fulfilled. Climbing up to the top of Bear Butte http://www.pbs.org/falconer/land/bearbutte.htm to have a chat with God, held a similar, and equally fulfilled promise. It will surprise no parents that my decision to have another family, 2 more progeny, again broke up many of my certainties. Now what would occur if I went to India and found a record written 2000 years ago that told my life today in such detail intellect could not refute it? http://www.tamilnadutourism.org/astrology/tnastrologies/nadi.aspx?catid=c10&subcat1id=&subcat2id=&FromMenu=yes How could I NOT put myself in this cauldron and see what else could happen to me?!
Befitting the mysterious nature that this venture would be seeped in, my first guide on this journey was a blind man. Gerard and I had created a bit more than a business friendship during a recent successful real estate transaction. His cousin, Naveen, in Illinois had family in Chennai (old name Madras) India. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chennai Thru this link, a driver was to be at the Chennai International Airport, just past customs, with a large sign, " Tom C." Still just learning to trust the spirit that would carry me thru the upcoming adventure, I sighed out my concern as the inscribed beacon, amidst the sea of smaller lights calling out to their arrivals, bored into my mind and linked me with my first guardian on Indian soil. My one small bag was on my shoulder and this driver with the first of many names I could not hear with my English mind, guided me to a family car, whisked me thru the security gate, into the tropical night, baptizing me into the infinite sea of stimulation that this foreign land was offering me.
At 2:30a, I checked into The New Woodlands, http://www.newwoodlands.com/ At $35us a night, I was to live like a prince and be cared for by a small army of hotel attendants, the ones opening the doors, sweeping the drive, delivering my food, returning my clean laundry, changing my money, and advising the resolution of any of my concerns. I would spend 3 nights originally here, 4 in a smaller burg some 3 hours away, 1 more at the Woodlands, and a final 3 nights in a penthouse bedroom with private bath, at the home of Shrini and Meena Reddy who, if I were deluded into thinking only my life counted, would surely have been put on this earth just to midwife me into this new life.
For some 50 years the Ambassador auto http://www.hmambassador.com/history.asp has been made, pretty much the same way, and with the same parts. This car can be repaired in just about any corner of India, and its as much a part of the cultural environment there as cows, monkeys and rice fields. I was to spend more time in the belly of an Ambassador, than even in a bed, as I was couriered across Tamilnadu, South India, and delivered from one holy moment to the next.
Driver #1. Chennai Gas Station. We drive on the left side of the road, most of the time. Ambassadors come A/C or no A/C, with some minor discount for no A/C. I specified no A/C for the car driver Ganesh arrived in. It was much more pleasurable sensing the temp changes as we traveled thru many areas, smelling things, other than the large leather factory, hearing the village noises, and finding myself adjusting to the ambiance of the tropics. I did surrender to the A/C in my hotel rooms though.
My first day in Chennai was an introduction to how a balloon must feel as it is wafted on a gentle breeze from one space to the next. Gravity must have been turned on as usual, but with the avalanche of novelty, jet lag, voices making noises that meant nothing but vibrant life to me, and a street system designed by an anarchist, I found no familiar ground to hold me. As extremely present as was my drivers skill, just as extreme was his absence of English. This I would see later was no accident, but clearly a part of the lesson plan. We arrived thru the gate of the rambling estate of the Theosophical Society http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theosophical_Society , a bit before the book store would open. When founded, these many acres of palm trees, banyan trees, classic bungalows and English halls with their large cooling verandas, was outside the city of Chennai. Today its position on the shores of a large body of water, with its deteriorating grid of irrigation channels, and cows staked strategically amidst the grazable openings, is a prize many developers must be praying for. The music of young voices wafts over the eastern walls of the compound from the abutting elementary school. Huge bats, with wingspreads to compare to a Portage dam Eagle, fill a trio of huge trees. At the far reaches of our long, and silent stroll, resides the largest Banyan tree in the world, covering a diameter of somewhere near 300 feet. As we turned to leave, my driver made it known that it would be a welcome kindness if I offered a fee rupees in gratitude to the old frail man, who arose, uniformed, and with dignity as we approached, pointing out the Great Banyan. As of yet I knew nothing of the value of rupees. Sorting thru my fold of 5, 10, 20, 50, 100, and 500 rupee notes I indicated my ignorance. Five rupees would be meaningful. I released 10 into the hands of a man of an age I would one day be, and he returned the gift in a glowing show of connection and gratitude.. Five is about a dime, and represented 10% of my drivers daily income.
I could imagine Helena Blavatsky, or Annie Besant stepping out to the balcony of her residence to greet the morning sun. Charles Leadbetter had certainly viewed the fishes in the fountain. Krishnamurti would have met with many in the lecture hall. History was singing of great moments from every corner of this rich preserve. There was activity in the publishing house, the school, the dispensary, and when we returned to the gate, even the book store. But even so, the overpowering presence of this gateway to my lessons was silence. Even my desire to speak with the current head of the society returned a response that affirmed this spirit, "No. She will not speak with you." ( Radha Burnier, born 15 November 1923 in Adyar, India is a freemason and president of the Theosophical Society Adyar since 1980.) Ms. Burnier is in her mid 80's, spends about 2 hours a day at the Society Center, and several people reported, is not as fit as when she was a classical Indian dancer. Such histories our guiding lights embody.
The Theosophical Center grounds. The Great Banyan Tree, and driver #1. The tree sends out roots that pop up as new parts of the tree. I believe the branches also enter the earth and sprout anew. In this way the tree spreads, in this case to a diameter of about 300 feet.
The Theosophical Center compound has a large Palm plantation. For half of the year there is little to no rain, creating a cactus friendly environment. The grounds are filled with plant life, laced with broken and untended irrigation troughs, and generally showing either little interest, or little money, to devote to garden care.
A few of these huge brown bats woke up and flew about. Wingspread was over 3 feet, tip to tip.
The main hall was open, clean, quiet, and enjoyed a soft breeze passing thru it. Many great spiritual teachers have engaged students in this hall, e.g. Besant, Leadbetter, Krishnamurti. The veranda just outside is a classic feature of buildings built during the British rule. The statue is of founder, Annie Besant, and Charles Leadbetter.
Ramakrishna Center, First Try
Ramakrishna, 1836-1886 was a great Indian Saint, and following Yogananda had been my introduction to Indian Spirituality. I was enthralled by the story of his experiences of reaching God thru so many different paths. He took the identity of baby Rama and found God thru total surrender to God as Mother. He took the identity of a woman and found God thru his devotion to God as male Rama. He found realization thru the Gnani path, of intellect, and other approaches my memory has lost track of. He is most remembered as an advocate of India's most refined philosophy, Advaita Vedanta. What a wonder that a human could find the heart of God in many ways. The Ramakrishna Center, where he stayed while in Chennai, was not open to the public when we arrived. There are photos of it later in this story. http://www.sriramakrishnamath.org/home.asp
Vivekananda House, First Try
Vivekananda House. Left side, and entrance on the right side. May have better picture farther down in the story. This was actually the first ice house in India. Boat loads of ice from England made it all the way to India, and could be stored for months inside this building. The house went thru many owners and finally was purchased by the Indian Government as part of their heritage preservation program. Vivekananda only spent about 8 days in this house. Ramakrishna, and his student Vivekananda, besides being spiritual leaders of the highest order, were also very instrumental in characterizing and affirming the Indian identity as India was breaking away from England and becoming a new independent country. Besides an extensive photo display of Vivekananda and his travels to England and the US, there are several rooms devoted to murals depicting the great people and events from the beginning of time that have informed the Indian character.
That blur of black and yellow is a 3 wheel "auto", a motorized rickshaw, which is the most common taxi in all the cities I visited. The auto seats 2 comfortably, and often I saw 4-8 occupants snuggled up, usually smiling, often laughing, and always oblivious to any concerns our US OSHA would go nuts about.
Vivekananda, 1863-1902, focused the Vedanta path that Ramakrishna had affirmed, and woke the world up to India's spiritual refinement at the Chicago Worlds Fair, during the Parliament of Religions. The stately mansion over looking the Bengal Sea, was not open when we arrived. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vivekanandar_Illam I returned to both of these sites later in my visit, much more prepared to appreciate them, and, as the lesson plan had clearly foreseen, was much more ready to appreciate the silence I would find at both.
I Bought A Cell Phone
Yes, just as I had dreamed, I was on a spiritual pilgrimage, and nothing but holiness lay before me. Except. My cell phone provider had been wrong. My phone would NOT work in India. One would think it a simple matter to buy a new phone, in India, that worked in India. One would, if one were living in the US. 6 hours after making the initial inquiry, I had provided copies of my Passport, copies of my Visa, confirmed I was not a Tamil Tiger, Al Qaida operative, or Naxilite revolutionary, and returned one final time to the electronics store to pick up the phone, post charging. I was set to be in touch with my guardians of many names now, and had a bank of minutes that were not to run out the rest of my trip.
Chennai Temple
Filling in the p.m. time waiting for Dick Chenny to confirm I was not part of some secret rendition program, my driver took me to visit the largest temple in Chennai http://www.indiantemples.com/Tamilnadu/s225.html. The daily theme was carried on: Temple not open. But across the street from the inspiring entrance was a huge pool, a granite block lined gatt, filled with some soup the locals call water, but which I would not touch were heaven offered as the reward. I was directed to exchange a pair of rupees for some small bread rolls. The drivers gestures were clear, I was to toss them in the pool. Apparently there is something sacred about this act, and the boiling water caused by thousands of hungry fishes, that too had meaning that, like much of what I was to experience, had no referent in my mind.
Entrance to Chennai Temple. Recently repainted. Standard exceptional detail of Chola Dynasty Temple.
Across street from Temple entrance is this
huge granite block lined pool, or gatt.
And this is what shows up when bread is thrown to the occupants.
St. Thomas Basilica, Chennai
There are three cathedrals in the world built over the resting place of an original disciple of Jesus. This is one of them. http://www.santhomebasilica.com/basilica.html St. Thomas took the gospel to India, and ended his days here. The Basilica of St. Thomas is an inspiring white structure, surrounded by a school, a museum including holy relics, and church offices. I know nothing of St. Thomas's work in India, but that did not preclude my experience of something precious available at this site. The sanctuary was huge, unlike the Hindu temples I would visit, was furnished with classic pews, and is often packed with worshippers. This day, I was alone at the church, except for one small woman devotedly bowing in prayer at the outside shine to St. Mary. The huge sanctuary, thick with the heat of the day, with only my one body sitting there, brought a soft sense of quiet to my heart. Later I would see this as my first course in a long feast of quiet.
St. Thomas Basilica in Chennai. There is an open commons extending from the church arches here out and across to the school. Thousands of worshippers gather in this outdoors area often for religious celebrations.
Food Routines Established Quickly.
With a body tired beyond measure, and a mind afire with curiosity, I headed back late in the day to The New Woodlands. My driver parked at the curb a few blocks from my destination, saving me from the two hotel restaurants serving only vegetarian fare. He would camp out there until my repast was complete, and then convey me the final distance to a sleep that would be sound and fully refreshing. At this restaurant I began refining my requests for "no tomatoes". Italy has fewer tomatoes in their recipes than India has. I am allergic to tomatoes. So, a meal drama of many, many acts, began. It was here I discovered chicken tika, a red pepper coated, cooked assemblage of smaller pieces on toothpicks. I soon learned to ask for white rice and boiled vegetables, "green beans and carrots, if you can do that, please." And my carnivorous bent would be handled from here on most often with this trio of entrées. Restaurants are advertised, if available, as A/C. My next driver, of many days, Ganesh, and I had a running joke. "What do you want for dinner?" he would convey thru a bit of English, the time of day the communication was shared, and my habits which he soon picked up on. My reply, which only the first time he did not understand, "Chicken A/C please." We always chuckled.
Hindu Wedding Preparations.
Weddings draw up to 2000 guests. Family connections are extensive. Curious about the bluesy Indian music coming from the marriage hall at The Woodlands, one morning, I looked in, and was, most sincerely, invited by the bride's parents to join the wedding. I enjoyed their welcome for a short time, listening to the music, and watching as the Priest set up for the wedding.
Murty Connects Me
My memory is already avoiding some of my requests. At some point in this first day a man I had been connected to while in the US, thru my Professional Coach, Mike Jay www.mikejay.com , Murty, met me at my hotel. He was a quiet man with years of living in the presence of Sai Baba http://www.saibabaofindia.com/#shirdi, a realized woman I never can remember the name of, others fully ensconced on a spiritual path, and almost everyone that would care for me during my visit to India. Surprisingly, his soul was not at peace however, and yet his service to me was without restraint. I was not too concerned for him though. Given his history, his natural care for me, and the context of life coaching he lived in, I doubted he could maintain his concerns for long. Arriving in Chennai, a diversion of his travels, specifically to provide guidance to me, he gave me hours of his time and advice. I now knew of Dr. Karupaya, the Professor of Agriculture at the prestigious University in Chidambaram http://www.annamalaiuniversity.ac.in/index1.php who would travel with me to obtain my Nadi Leaf reading. I knew the married couple Shrini and Meena who would host me the final 4 days of my visit. I had a name of Matri Prasad at Aurobindo's Ashram in Pondicherry http://www.sriaurobindoashram.org, who would eventually receive me in his office, provide a personal tour of the Ashram, respond to my search for truth with the admonition to "think less" and I believe, as much as possible in a self-proclaimed non-hierarchical management structure, was the head of the Ashram. From these hubs would grow connections to each person waiting on my journey to care for me at their appointed times: The cab driver of infinite trust, unquestionable competence, and natural friendship; the Pranic Healer, channeling her Masters tear provoking, heart melting love; the Astrologer with unstudied modesty, studied certainty, and invaluable direction; and even the travel agent who met me at the airport at midnight just to ensure I got off with the absence of troubles that had been consistent thru out my trip.
Murty.
Networker and Guardian extraordinaire.
Pg 1, Tamilnadu Pg 2 Pg 3 Pg 4, Nadi Leaves Pg 5, Temples Kids_School Pg 6, Auro & Ramana Pg 7, Hosts/Final Day Pg 8, Photo Album
