11/19/2020 0 Comments India - Tibetan Monastery - Part 2India – Tibetan Monastery – “Being” There I like to imagine that the Tibetan demons and deities that we would soon see painted on the monastery walls sent us a “gift” to help prepare us (Peter and I) for our visit. The terrifying gift occurred on our ride to the monastery. There appears to be an unwritten rule when driving in India that you MUST, yes MUST pass the car in front of you. Please visualize that the major road going toward the monastery has only one lane in each direction. Remember, that in India, the cars drive on the left. Following the above stated rule, our driver felt compelled to pass any car in front of him. He would beep his horn, pull to the right and speed up even more to pass. At the same time, from the other direction, another car was doing the same thing so that our car was going at full speed toward the “slower” car and vice versa. It appeared that we would crash, head on. Then in what felt like the last second, the two fast cars passed the slow ones and got back into their own lane. The first time this happened, I believe I stopped breathing completely. I asked the driver if he could consider staying behind the car in front of us. He responded with a laugh “Oh, you will get used to it.” It took quite a while, repeating this procedure many more times, but he was quite right. By what seemed the 30th time he did this, it was no big deal. I took this as an invitation to face my own fears and be open to whatever came our way during our visit. Looking out the windows at this remarkably flat country, we would occasionally see some Indians appearing from far away on the horizon walking toward the road, often carrying something on their head. Our driver told us that they were walking from their villages. It felt like I was seeing India from way, long ago. After an hour or so, we made a left turn and passed a few stores. “Are we there?” “Oh no, not yet”. Within less than five minutes, the entire topography and environment changed dramatically from flat land to very hilly forests. We drove for another half hour and began to see some farm land. Then, our car dipped into the swale of a hill and as we came to the top, we saw this gleaming, golden temple. It was stunning and shocking. Wow! How was it even possible that such an incredible structure could exist in the midst of “nowhere”? We were soon dropped off at the entrance to the monastery and agreed to meet our driver late in the late afternoon. The beautifully constructed and painted gate to the monastery was open, and there was no one around. Really, no one, literally. Peter and I shared the thought that perhaps if anyone makes it this far, they are welcome. We entered the gate into a large outdoor courtyard area surrounded by gardens, leading to the temple entrance. To our pleasant surprise, we saw a very old monk sitting on the steps with a young assistant. We asked their permission to enter the temple which they gladly granted. They told us that there were no ceremonies or studies today and that we could stay as long as we wished. They reminded us to take off our shoes. From the time we entered to when we left, Peter and I were the only ones in the temple (prayer hall). There were three very large (60-foot) gold plated statues, one of the Buddha and two others. with placards (in English) telling the story of each one. The walls were decorated with vibrant paintings with demons, deities, dragons, animals, flowers and birds, all telling the Tibetan Buddhist stories. The grandeur, both in its architecture and art felt like the great Roman Catholic churches including bells, gongs, and even Tibetan horns ranging in size from 6 to 15 feet. We took our time absorbing the symbols and stories. There was an air of orderliness and silence throughout. It felt like an invitation to sit quietly which we did for quite a while enjoying the atmosphere. We left the monastery grounds and took a short walk to the center of town (Bylakuppe). It was a simple main street with stores on both sides and Tibetan prayer flags everywhere. We saw some monks wandering about. It felt like we had left India and gone to another country. In this world, we were definitely strangers and some of the children looked and pointed and then hid behind their moms. We laughed and hid behind each other waving to the children. We stopped at a souvenir place and Peter took a great interest in some of the small paintings. The owner asked if we would like to meet the artist. He then took us several blocks from the main street and knocked on the door of an unassuming little house. An old man with a very kind face opened the door and invited us in. It was a two-room house – the kitchen/ sitting room and the bedroom. He invited us into his bedroom and on the wall were many of his paintings not yet framed. It was so simple and lovely and Peter bought a few of the paintings. We stopped at a little outdoor Tibetan café and had tea and some cheese sandwiches. In a deeply relaxed state, we felt very appreciative that we were actually here, living in the moment. By now, we were felt comfortable and decided simply to wander a bit and see what mystery would find us. We both felt clearly in the hands of the good forces we had seen at the temple. On a back street, we saw a group of maybe 100 people doing something, but we could not tell what. We sat on a hillside and watched what turned out to be a community of people grinding corn. It was an extraordinary sight. Every age was represented from old men and women, sitting in lawn chairs, to little children running around. The unground corn was in a large pile of what looked like 100-pound bags that men and especially teenage boys threw over their shoulders and carried to the grinding machine. The grinder was clearly a home-made contraption that was run off a generator. Several men were on a platform receiving the corn and dumping it into the grinder. After the corn was ground, it was put into the same bags and carried to a different pile. The grinder makes quite a mess and women were continuously sweeping up the corn and putting it in piles. And, of course, there was food. In fact, someone brought us some, so we felt part of the remarkable ceremony. We watched for a long time and marveled at what a true, inclusive community event looks like. This was clearly the final “gift” for us. We met our driver and drove back to Mysore to sleep. The next day we took the bus to Bangalore which seemed, dare I say, somewhat familiar. Categories
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India – Tibetan Monastery – Part 1 – Getting There – The Journey
My colleague, Peter, and I had scheduled another training trip to Bangalore that was to take place in three weeks. I was sitting quietly at home reading my favorite Buddhist Magazine, (Tricycle) when I came upon a very short article about a Tibetan Monastery in southern India. The Dalai Lama had established an entire Tibetan community in northern India in 1959. He also had sent 10 monks in 1963 to southern India to found a second monastery (Namdroling Monastery) on 3,000 acres of jungle land provided by the Indian Government and the Maharaja of Mysore for Tibetan exiles. By 1999, the small group had expanded significantly and, with the help of world-wide donations, built what is locally called the “Golden Temple.” The settlement is also home to a community of over 5,000 lamas (both monks and nuns), a junior high school, a religious college and a hospital. I received the article as an irresistible invitation, as if it were written to me personally. I discovered that Mysore was only three hours from Bangalore and then another 2 hours to the monastery. I checked with Peter and he was all for the adventure. We made a slight adjustment to our schedule and designed the following half-baked plan. We would fly to Bangalore as usual, except on Friday instead of Saturday, arrive at 2AM, go to the Leela (hotel), sleep for a few hours, eat breakfast, and find a train to Mysore. We would spend the day in Mysore, find a place to sleep, and next morning go to the monastery arriving back in Mysore late at night. Then next morning, back to Bangalore and after a little rest and meeting other colleagues, begin teaching at night. The how, where, and when details would not be filled in until we were on the journey. By this time in my life, I had established the very helpful habit of imagining that the “good angels” would help me along my way. This was not a literal thing but more of an emotional call to be alert to all the good and useful possibilities right in front of my nose. The plane trip went well and we had a few hours sleep at the Leela. After a large breakfast including making sandwiches for later, we took an auto-rigshaw to the train station. We discovered there were two types of trains. The “slow” train was the one packed with Indians doing their daily business and making many stops. The fast train was almost direct and a significant upgrade in style. We asked for the “slow” train because, after all, this was an adventure. To our surprise, the man at the ticket booth told us that he would not sell us a ticket for that. Since we were American (westerners), only the fast train would do for us. At first, I wanted to argue but I remembered the “good angels” and accepted. In fact, it was a perfectly nice train with almost no passengers. Peter and I looked out at the Indian countryside for a while and then took a refreshing nap. The train felt “western” but when I went to the bathroom and opened the door there was no toilet. Hmmm? I looked more closely and there were two places to put your feet and then squat or whatever. Pulling a chain simply opened a trap door and whatever I had deposited went on the tracks. Ah, India! The main attraction in Mysore is the Maharaja’s Palace. (see photo) I recommend the website since it is quite indescribable https://www.mysorepalace.gov.in/ especially the architecture, artwork, temples, courtyards, gardens and even a zoo. Entering the palace and its grounds is encountering another world. We spent hours there, wandering inside and outside. I don’t remember seeing many other westerners. This is place for Indians as well as others from Asia. It is always interesting to be the outsider. Next stop, before it closed, was the large and rambling Devaraja Market in Mysore. http://www.global-gallivanting.com/reasons-to-visit-devaraja-market-in-mysore-a-photo-essay/. This website has wonderful photos of the market. It goes on for blocks and includes flowers, fruits, saris, essential oils and spices piled high just to name a few of the offerings. Someone we met told us to sleep at The little White House, a local mini-version of the American White House. It was just a bit out of town, so we took a cab with a very pleasant driver. On the way, we told him of our plans to visit the monastery and wondered if he would be willing to drive us, spend the day, and then drive us home. He agreed for what we considered a fair price so we were all set for tomorrow. Ah, the good angels again. The hotel, at that time (around 2007) had the feeling of having outlived its former glory. The lobby and dining room, perhaps once, had been venues for many dignitaries but certainly not now. It was slightly eerie as there was only one person who appeared to be doing everything. We had our choice of rooms since almost no one was in the hotel. We selected the second floor overlooking the pool. “Good choice” he said but warned us to keep our doors and windows closed when we were not there because the monkeys would definitely enter and cause a mess. We did sit out on the balcony overlooking the pool, saw one family with children swimming and many monkeys in the trees. For a fixed price, the hotel restaurant served a multi-course delicious traditional Indian dinner. As a surprise, two India musicians arrived – one playing an Indian flute and the other an Indian drum (tabla). The music was hauntingly beautiful and they played for an hour without stopping. By evening’s end, Peter and I were the only ones in the restaurant and it was time to sleep and get ready for an early start to the monastery. . 11/5/2020 0 Comments India -"I believe in the product!"Bangalore has over 1,000 Hindu temples. They are everywhere, all sizes from tiny ones on street corners with home grown paintings to famous ones, built hundreds of years ago. Over several trips, Peter and I visited some of these within easy walking distance of our hotel (The Leela Palace). However, our students (employees) told us that there is one temple we MUST see called ISKCON -International Society for Krishna Consciousness- (see photo). For those unfamiliar with Hindu teachings, Krishna is considered, among other things, the savior of humanity and the remover of all sufferings. He is deeply loved. On a sunny Bangalore morning, (one advantage of teaching at night), Peter and I ventured out and hailed what is called an auto rickshaw. These are three-wheeled motorized cars used throughout Bangalore as cabs for very reasonable prices. After a twenty-minute drive through traffic, we were dropped off at ISKCON. My first vision of this remarkable structure, located on a hillside, www.iskconbangalore.org reminded me of something that might be found at EPCOT Center at Disneyworld. The building was constructed with glass and steel with a traditional Indian motif making it seem like it came from another century. It was actually completed in 1997. ISKCON is a place for pilgrimage for many Hindus. As Peter and I were figuring out how to enter, we saw a large group of people (pilgrims?) waiting in line to walk up some steps to enter the building. We approached the group and they invited us to join the line. We thought this was the standard entrance line to the temple. We also heard some kind of chanting from a loud speaker. Quite innocently we became part of the line at the bottom of a long staircase. The chanting stopped for a moment and everyone in the line climbed to the next step. We took a step also still not quite getting it. Then the chant started again “Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna, Krishna, Hare, Hare. Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama, Rama Hare, Hare. Again, at the end of the chant, everyone climbed one step. By this time, we fully realized that we were part of the pilgrim line. We knew this chant, this mantra, this prayer. It had been brought to the western world in the 1960s by the Beatles and George Harrison’s song “My Sweet Lord.” After several steps, I asked one of the pilgrims in line with us, how many steps there were. He responded, “108.” This is the number of beads in a Mala used to help focus the mind and heart. For Christians, think Rosary beads. We settled in. Some 20 minutes later, we completed the 108 steps and all the chanting. This walking meditation had helped us become more receptive, more present, more available as we entered the temple. The interior of the temple is quite extraordinary with exquisite paintings, statues and garlands all related to the story of Krishna. There was a section, roped off, where a teaching of some sort was going on in Hindi. The priest / teacher was meeting with perhaps 50-100 people all sitting listening attentively. For quite a while, we walked around the enormous room taking it all in. We felt it was time to go and the exit process took us to a food market located in the back of the temple. There were shops, booths and counters selling vegetables, fruits and other daily necessities. There were also some booths selling delicious looking pastries. It was wonderful to see that the temple and the market were one thing – interconnected – the sacred and the secular. That resonated with me. The pastries looked very tempting so we got in line. The woman before me, from India, bought a pastry and the person behind the counter asked her for 3 rupees – say $.50. That sounded like a very reasonable price indeed. I asked for the same thing she had purchased, and the soft-spoken man gave it to me and said “$10 please.” Fortunately for me, and no doubt influenced by the 108 steps, chanting and everything else in the temple, I was non-reactive. I inquired, “she paid 3 rupees and you are asking me for $10, why is that?” He smiled “Because you can afford it.” Again, to my own delight and surprise, there was very little reactivity – I simply said “That’s true.” And I gave him the $10. He asked if we would like to see what they do with the money. We nodded and followed him to a door behind the counter. He held the door open and we entered a very large room with many people making boxes and packages of food. He explained that the temple has made a commitment to feed a lunch time meal to all the school children in Bangalore who need it. They deliver the food in every way they can depending on the volunteers who help – SUV’s, cars, auto rigshaws, motorcycles, bicycles, whatever it takes. It was startling and wonderful. The people who were putting all this together were quietly working at it. He then said, “Now, would you like to contribute more?” We did and I said “You are a very good salesman indeed.” Without missing a beat, he responded in an American business idiom “I believe in the product!” We all laughed, wished each other the best, and then Peter and I made our way back to wilds of Bangalore. |
David FeldmanDog walker, Dog Mediator, Father, Husband, Categories |