#ganeshpuri

🙏 Sri Ramana Maharshi 🌹 Soul Reigns 🕉️

It wasn’t until I made a recent trip to India that I realized I preferred my deities fluorescent – not just fluorescent but monochrome fluorescent. I’ve always had a minimalist aesthetic. And the Indians, bless their hearts, seem to have a purity of perception that experiences the radiant kick-ass-ness of fluorescent color as something divine. They particularly embrace red and orange – those…

It’s 3rd October 1982. I woke up confused.

I am finding it very difficult to about about that day. So I’ll just tell what happened. There were not a lot of people at the ashram when I arrived in late September 1982, and Baba had been sending some people away all week, so there were even fewer people now.  The dormitory where I was sleeping was almost empty. Each day at 3:30am a drum was beaten to wake us up so we could commence the daily schedule of meditation, chanting, work, and of course, eating. I had only been there a few days and had not acclimatised to the early rising, so when on the morning of Sunday 3rd October I in until about 6am I woke confused. 

Why had there been no drum? And what was that slow mournful chant I could hear? I got up and went looking for answers.

I splashed water on my face and went to join my hatha yoga class but it seemed to have been cancelled. So I wandered up to the source of the chanting. I found the hall (Guru Chauk?) full of people chanting the slowest version of “Om namo Bhagavate Nityanandaya” I had ever heard. I sat and joined them, blissfully unaware of what had happened.

I must have chanted for 60 minutes or so when I saw a friend stand up and walk out. I got up and followed him. He had been staying at the ashram longer than I had (this was my first Sunday there) and I asked him, “Do they always do this on Sundays?”

He looked at me aghast. “Haven’t you heard? Baba has left his body!”

“What?” I asked, “Has he died?” 

My friend could not answer. He did not have the heart to say. But it all made sense. The mournful chanting, the general mood. It was not a normal Sunday at all.

At some point in the night the other ashramites had been awakened and told to come and chant, but apparently because I was sleeping in an empty dorm I had been overlooked.

There were mixed feelings everywhere. Many people were in denial. “He has done this before,” some claimed, saying he was just in samadhi and would come out of it soon. Many were distraught. I felt a strange peace and elation. The day before, Baba had told me today was going to be a big day and it seemed this was why. 

Soon the doors to Baba’s rooms were opened and we all filed by his body, which was propped up in padmasana, draped in rudraksha malas and garlands of flowers. His body looked collapsed, empty. He was not coming back.

Throughout that day hundreds of people arrived. Soon the ashram was crowded. I spent the day going in and out of the chant, sitting in the cave to meditate, and wandering around the ashram. I chanted the Gurugita. I sat at the feet of the statue of Tukaram for what seemed a lifetime. I don’t remember if I ate at all. The day was long. Now I write about this, for the first time since that day, I really have no words to describe what it was like. But I feel the peace and timelessness again. 

1. ulwe hill, navi mumbai international airport site, navi mumbai, maharashtra, india. 

2. 3. 4. 5. ganeshpuri, navi mumbai international airport site, navi mumbai, maharashtra, india.