A shop just outside the ashram gate all gussied up for the monthly ritual circumambulation around Arunachala
The spangly purse I had coveted, which was gifted to me by a virtual stranger After the final satsang, there was an eruption of hugs and conversation outside the meditation hall as we had the freedom to talk for the first time in two weeks. So much had transpired, and we were all deeply impacted by what we had shared together.
One of the retreat attendees was the woman with the wise eyes whose purse I had silently admired at one of the public satsangs during our early days in Tiru. She and her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren were on a spiritual pilgrimage from their home in Germany. They had been living in Tiru for several months, and after attending a few of Devaji’s public satsangs, she and her daughter decided to sign up for the retreat and attended most sessions.
After we could speak again, I approached her and, in an uncensored moment, told her how much I had admired her spangly purse the first time I had seen her at that public satsang. She immediately asked me if I had a plastic bag. I looked at her quizzically. “If you have something to put my belongings in, the purse is yours,” she said, smiling. Though genuinely touched, I thanked her for her generosity and responded that I couldn’t possibly accept it. She, however, was adamant, so I went to my room, found a plastic Ziplock bag and returned to her. She unceremoniously transferred all the contents of her purse to the plastic bag and handed the beautiful cloth purse over to me. I accepted it mixed feelings, but in the end, the purity of her offering won over my reticence. The cloth bag, covered in sequins, spangles and pearls, was indeed lovely. Smelling strongly of incense, it was frayed in places from being carried by this dear woman, whose name I don’t remember, but whose kind gesture I will never forget. It is one of my prized possessions from the journey.
One of the retreat attendees was the woman with the wise eyes whose purse I had silently admired at one of the public satsangs during our early days in Tiru. She and her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren were on a spiritual pilgrimage from their home in Germany. They had been living in Tiru for several months, and after attending a few of Devaji’s public satsangs, she and her daughter decided to sign up for the retreat and attended most sessions.
After we could speak again, I approached her and, in an uncensored moment, told her how much I had admired her spangly purse the first time I had seen her at that public satsang. She immediately asked me if I had a plastic bag. I looked at her quizzically. “If you have something to put my belongings in, the purse is yours,” she said, smiling. Though genuinely touched, I thanked her for her generosity and responded that I couldn’t possibly accept it. She, however, was adamant, so I went to my room, found a plastic Ziplock bag and returned to her. She unceremoniously transferred all the contents of her purse to the plastic bag and handed the beautiful cloth purse over to me. I accepted it mixed feelings, but in the end, the purity of her offering won over my reticence. The cloth bag, covered in sequins, spangles and pearls, was indeed lovely. Smelling strongly of incense, it was frayed in places from being carried by this dear woman, whose name I don’t remember, but whose kind gesture I will never forget. It is one of my prized possessions from the journey.
A group photo after the final satsang. Devaji is in the center wearing a white shirt; I am just behind him and to the right with the pink scarf; the woman who gave me the purse is in the back row at the end, left.
The five of us who joined the throng circumambulating the holy mountain. From left, Ishq, Kali, Amrita, Karen and myself This was an auspicious occasion for more than one reason. That night was the full moon, and every month at the full moon, thousands of pilgrims come to Tiruvannamalai to circumambulate Arunachala in a holy ritual called Girivalam that has been practiced for thousands of years. It is said to be a way to achieve mukti -- liberation or enlightenment. The 14- to 15-kilometer route, that runs along the highway outside the ashram, includes stops at temples along the way and takes about four hours to complete. In preparation, vendors set up their wares (including cast-iron pots and pans, always essential to carry on a long walk), and shopkeepers festooned their buildings, setting up chairs and stands outside and offering food and refreshments in addition to their regular merchandise.
After participating in group photos, five of us joined the throng, comprised predominantly of barefoot Indians in traditional saris and sarongs. There was a celebratory feeling in the air that felt appropriate on this, our last formal retreat day. We walked with the crowd for a mile or so in the warm, humid air, basking in retreat afterglow and enjoying the sense of camaraderie, and then turned around and went against the tide, returning to the ashram.
After participating in group photos, five of us joined the throng, comprised predominantly of barefoot Indians in traditional saris and sarongs. There was a celebratory feeling in the air that felt appropriate on this, our last formal retreat day. We walked with the crowd for a mile or so in the warm, humid air, basking in retreat afterglow and enjoying the sense of camaraderie, and then turned around and went against the tide, returning to the ashram.
That night I went with two women from the Palouse into Tiruvannamalai to the German Bakery for celebratory dinner. To describe the German Bakery as atmospheric would be an understatement. Up a dark flight of stairs, the restaurant was dimly lit, with a glass-enclosed case full of mouth-watering cookies, cakes and other baked goods on one side and an open-air exterior wall on the other. Rustic closely-situated rectangular tables covered in plastic cloths filled the space. I was beside myself in anticipation of some non-ashram food. The three of us shared pasta with tomato sauce and broccoli, Thai rice noodle pasta and pot stickers, then finished off the meal with mocha-nut, chocolate-chip cake. Though by no means the best food I’ve ever tasted, after so many meals of brown or white rice and mushy stewed vegetables, I was delighted and oh-so-satisfied.
After dinner we relaxed and chatted for a spell, taking in the surreal vibe--a greenish cast lent an eerie air to the entire scene. Sitting at a nearby table against the outside wall were three men, framed by the lush vegetation outside, speaking English with a British accent and exchanging tales of adventures. One with wild hair and eyes, who looked like he had seen and done it all, punctuated his animated conversation with erratic gestures that only amplified a sense that I was witness to some intrigue. It was all good theater, and I slept deeply that night for the first time in a long while.
Next: Departure and Homecoming
After dinner we relaxed and chatted for a spell, taking in the surreal vibe--a greenish cast lent an eerie air to the entire scene. Sitting at a nearby table against the outside wall were three men, framed by the lush vegetation outside, speaking English with a British accent and exchanging tales of adventures. One with wild hair and eyes, who looked like he had seen and done it all, punctuated his animated conversation with erratic gestures that only amplified a sense that I was witness to some intrigue. It was all good theater, and I slept deeply that night for the first time in a long while.
Next: Departure and Homecoming
RSS Feed