It was an impromptu trip, one I made on a lark. I had 3 days to kill with the Kolkata heatwave was driving me crazy and unfortunate others in the hospital. My landlady, who by now understands she has a maverick on her hands, albeit one with spiritual inclinations suggested I will like going down to Mayapur. Her own trip down there had been fantastic and she recommended good,old Iskcon. A quick browse over their site told me they offered everything. From buses that ply down to Mayapur to a range of accommodation options on their large community. One could book a seat on an A.C. bus and an A.C. room in their dormitories and let Iskcon arrange a tour for them around the Nabadwip-Mayapur region.
In ten minutes I was on my way to the office to get my things sorted out. I booked myself on a regular bus and got myself a kutir ... straw hut accommodation for a spanking Rs. 100 per night !!! And all this on a last minute. Thank god for the killer heatwave that led to cancellations ! True to the plan I was on the bus to Mayapur at 5:30 a.m. We passed villages and farms, all lush green and forgot that we were leaving behind a concrete jungle that was sweltering behind. Once you step into rural India time stands still for you. Once you see farmers toiling away in their fields and women hauling water pots, all your own problems and whims melt away. You come alive to life in a way that is not possible in the city. Your frazzled mind is soothed by the reality of simple living.
After 4 hours on the road we landed at the Iskcon campus. My room - kutir was modest. But I found myself alone in a 4 bed shared room because of the heatwave. Set amidst lavishly greem farmland and huge trees with diverse bird species all chirping away. I had come to a different planet altogether. Next door was a goshala, an international school for Iskcon devotees children, an ashram for the renunciates ..... A whole different planet, seemingly calmer and serene. I didn't see a frown in the 3 days I was there. My landlady insisted I don't miss the morning arati and I didn't. Only ... for a city gal walking through grass and trees at the devilish hour of 4:30 a.m. was no mean feat. I deserve an award for sheer bravado, the spooky night orchestra comprising an assortment of insects and birds notwithstanding I made it in the pitch dark to the temple precinct. Only to find countless devotees from nearby villages having done the same, only they had to traverse wild farm land in the dark.
There is a reason why communal singing is such a big part of many cultures and beliefs. It is an experience I can't put in words. Experience it yourself at your nearest Iskcon or any other communal devotional event to know for yourself. You will begin to understand there is an unknown world out there. One in places like Nadia, Vrindavan, Benares, Ajmer and the like. Where communal experiences induce feelings you can't quite put the slot on. When you take the barge and venture to Nabadwip, you see devotees kissing the places saints have hallowed down the ages. Scooping the dust from their feet and anointing themselves with it. You will learn a new kind of humility. One where your imperative to rationalise will be subjugated to instinctive emotionalism. And crack by crack your well built armour of rational emotionalism will break. You emerge a new image of yourself, freer and lighter by the tonne. Where beliefs are just that. Beliefs. Not subject to rationale and logic. But they are not superstitions because they are based on love and adoration rather than fear.
We all need such breaks once in a while. To discover the light within and the lightness it brings.
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