Appreciation

Sometimes I hear something in the distance, a bell ringing in offering, someone singing bhajans, and I smile to myself. Nowhere in the world would you hear that but in Mayapur.

Sometimes I see something happen in front of me, ladies picking flowers for their deities, a child dressed up as Krsna or Rama and I smile to myself. Nowhere else you see that but here.

Sometimes I get a small amount of Krsna's mercy in all sorts of ways, making Mahaprabhu's flower arrangements, a gift of a maha garland, and I smile to myself. Nowhere could I get mercy like that.

Actually this isn't true. These things do happen all of the time all over the world, in every temple and community of devotees, and I guess I've never really noticed how much until coming here to Mayapur. Because in Mayapur it feels different somehow. You see or hear these thing all of the time, at the same time, every day. Just a walk from your home to the temple could have you going past a window where someone is chanting the purusa-sukta prayers, and then another doorway where an ecstatic kirtan is raging. A few steps away and you will pass a 5-year old, a peacock feather in his makeshift turban and waving a flute at you, a big grin on his face. Someone will wave and call out "haribol!" and hand you some sweets from that mornings offering, or invite you to have lunch maha-prasad at their house.

And its only just 7am!

These are the things that are easy to dismiss as everyday life and take for granted.

But everyday life for me at the moment means I am surrounded by all things reminding me of Krsna, whether I like it or not. He will not let me forget Him..

I pray that these simple things remain in my heart, so that I can always appreciate them, whether I am in Mayapur, or elsewhere.

Flower arrangements

Right next to Mahaprabhu's feet, on either side, sit two beautiful flower arrangements, made fresh every day. I never really noticed them much before. Until now.

Last week the devotee who makes these flower arrangements asked me if I could make them a couple days a week, as she's busy with other commitments. When she first asked me, my instant thought was "Don't you have to be initiated or chanting sixteen rounds or super special to be doing things like that?" I told her I didn't think I was that good, I can't make vases, I'm amateur! But she insisted, she needed someone with at least a little artistic flair, and was just too busy herself. The job entailed that you collect the flowers and greenery, and arrive at 6am in the Pancha Tattva pujari room to have them made by 7am. Easy right?

So I agreed, though rather hesitantly. It was Monday that she asked me, so I didn't really think about it again until Friday evening, when I was reminded by someone, and in a rush wandered round the compound for some flowers and leaves. It would've probably been better if I'd collected the greenery the next morning right before making the vases, in order for them to be fresh... but I was so nervous that I wanted to be extra prepared. I had no idea what I was in for, what size they were, how full they needed to be, whether it should be all green or all flowers, how long they would take to do, and even if they would turn out at all!

I guess party of the reason for me being so nervous, was that somehow, I had been asked to do some service for Pancha Tattva, and I was scared about messing it up. Service for the deities is a wonderful thing as it is, but here in Mayapur, the spiritual capital of the world... How fortunate was I! No pressure now, don't make a mess of it!

I set 4 alarms for Saturday morning, just to be sure I would be up with plenty of time to collect more flowers if need be, and be in the pujari room early in case it took me longer than I thought. Can you tell I was nervous? Of course Murphy's law - I was awoken by my mothers loud knocking on the door, half an hour after my alarm(s) had tried to wake me. In a rush I sat upright, panic rushing through me and tripped on the sheets and pillows to unlock the door.

I spent the next half an hour gathering leaves and a few flowers in my large canvas bag, but I really had no idea what I was supposed to be getting. Some greenery looked beautiful, but I was unsure if it was too large, too small, or if it would wilt easily. I was taking wild guesses with everything I picked, and praying to Mahaprabhu that I had something in my bag that would work.

I hadn't really been keeping an eye on the time, but I arrived at 6am sharp. The old arrangements sat there, wilted and sad, awaiting my supposedly artistic touch. This was it. No getting it wrong now. I took all the old flowers out and discarded them in the large green bin, filled the vases with new green foam, and tipped the contents of my canvas bag on the bench.

I had an hour. It was frustrating to begin with, in fact halfway through the process I panicked, and started all over again. Nothing was sitting right, some of the flowers I had gotten were useless and I threw them away, and some of them were perfect but I didn't have enough. I've done flower arrangements before, why was this so hard? I had half an hour left.

Suddenly it was 7am and I had two arrangements in front of me, somehow just done. I'm not sure how I managed to pull it off with the pathetic selection of greenery I chose, but they were almost done. Just needed a few touches here and there, they weren't quite perfect yet. I walked over to the cupboard to take the scissors out to use, turned around and one of the arrangements had gone! I stopped. Did I miss something? Did it fall and I didn't hear it? Before I started to think I was going crazy, the pujari came out from the deity room, picked up the remaining arrangement, and went back inside, glancing over his shoulder at me - "These are finished, yes?"

What could I say. No they're not finished, I really hadn't got them quite perfect yet, but apparently Mahaprabhu liked them just the way they were. Who was I to argue.


This morning I was a lot more peaceful, and a little more prepared. I only spent 20 minutes choosing the greenery and flowers, I'd brought my iPod to listen to, and I had a plan of attack. I went in the pujari room, a smile on my face... and finished with time to spare.


Have YOU ever noticed the flower arrangements right next to Mahaprabhu's feet?

Snana Yatra

Over the past few weeks, Mayapur has been abuzz with stories of Snana Yatra. Some people were planning on what they were going to take to bathe Him with, others lamenting because they weren't going to be here, and most telling me wonderful stories of the past years.

Two days before Snana, it was dvadasi, and I had gone to Rajapur to visit Jagannath and take Him His sweet-rice. Lord Jagannath in Rajapur is like a magnet for me, I can't seem to keep away. I love the simplicity of His temple, the peacefulness and calm that envelopes the area - its such a contrast to the constant busyness of Mayapur. When you take darshan, you really do feel its just you and Jagannath, and he's just talking to you only. The festive pandal was already up when I went to Rajapur that day, as well as lengths of brightly coloured garlands hung expertly around the temple... a sure sign something special was just around the corner.

I'm not sure if it was the wisest decision, but I decided to take the bike to Rajapur for Snana, despite being a 30-40minute ride away. It had been drizzling all morning, and by the time I collected Ganga water, picked up a clay pot to bathe Jagannatha with, and squeezed past the rickshaws, motorbikes and scooters, cars, flat-beds, buses, bicycles and people, my feet were covered from heel to toe and up to my ankle in mud. Somehow though, I didn't seem to care, and all I wanted was to see and bathe Lord Jagannath.

When I entered the gates of the Jagannatha Mandir, it was as if I was entering a completely different planet, like I was in the spiritual world itself. The kirtan was roaring and every person I saw had a smile the size of Jagannath Himself. It wasn't hard to tell why. Past the Indians sitting on plastic chairs, the mothers with sleeping children on their laps, the kirtan party and past the garland-decorated barrier, sat Lord Jaganntha, Baladeva and Subhadra, dressed in simple yellow and white cloth, Their huge smiles inviting all Their devotees to help bathe Them.

Photographs by Shalini Radha

There was a line of people filing behind Lord Jagannath, pouring all different liquids onto Them, and from all sorts of containers. And I mean all sorts. It seemed almost inappropriate, to be pouring milk from a plastic Sprite bottle, or coconut juice from metal tiffin bowl. It was as if some people had just grabbed the first thing they could find, just to get a chance to bathe the Lord. Such is the mercy of Lord Jagannath, that He was accepting of everyone and their service to Him, no matter what odd container they were using to serve Him with.

I didn't dare to look at the queue to get up behind the deities, I knew I could be waiting in there for at least an hour or so. Instead I just stood and watched for awhile, partly mesmerised with seeing Lord Jagannath so close to me, drenched in Ganga water, coconut juice, milk, water, and partly preparing myself to stand in the muddy line to get my 2 seconds of bathing time.

A little to the left of the deities, there was a cluster of people hovering around a bamboo gate. After some time, I saw the barrier being lifted, and an elderly lady ushered through. She cut the long queue and was up bathing Lord Jagannath within minutes. Even though I wasn't elderly and in fact had no reason to receive the special treatment of cutting the line, that little cluster of people looked like somewhere I wanted to be. Ishaan on one hip, and my clay pot of Ganga water on the other, I made my way to the cluster, and pushed my way through the middle of everyone until I found Nila and a few other devotees I knew. I was becoming a real Bengali - no qualms as to who I push to the side, as long as I get my time with the Lord!

After a few minutes, the guard at the barrier nodded to Nila and Shivratri, indicating they could go through. Without a thought I pushed in behind them, and ducked under the barrier. The guard began to yell at me, he was only supposed to let two people in.... and in turn Nila and I yelled back to him, making up fast excuses as to why I should be let in as well. He protested some more, but by that time I was already on my way towards Jagannath, my clay pot ready to pour. Reflecting back, maybe I should've held my tongue and waited in line just like everyone else. Jagannath would've still been there waiting for me.

First Baladeva, then Subhadra...and finally we poured the remaining Ganga water on Jagannath's head. I leaned down and touched His lotus feet, then we were quickly ushered off.

Biking home, I had a smile on my face the size of Lord Jagannatha.

Everyone has a story

Last week Ishaan came up with a terrible hoarse cough, so Thursday and Friday saw us home from school and work, resting up well.

Thursday at 1.04pm, I was sitting on the bed reading a story to him, and all of a sudden we both stopped, and I looked up at the fan. Sure enough it was swinging slightly, enough to confirm for me what I had already suspected. EARTHQUAKE! It was just a small one, in fact later I found out it was a magnitude 4.4, with the epicentre in Bangladesh. I'm used to everything rattling and things falling off shelves, and that heart-stopping fear was something that was all too familiar for us both.

In light of the earthquake that seemed to follow me to India, I thought I would share a small piece I wrote after the February 22nd earthquake in Christchurch.


"1st March 2011. Everyone has a story. Some involve death, some involve falling buildings on top of them, some involve saving someone’s life or even your life being saved. But everyone’s story has the same pain, emotion, horror, panic and disbelief, and it is with those things that we all have a bond now that will never be broken. I was in the Christchurch Earthquake of February 2011, and I survived. You too? Wasn’t it devastating? Where were you when it happened?

I was at work - in a large warehouse in Sydenham, home of Four Corners NZ. Sitting peacefully creating jewellery in a comfy big office chair, listening to the Ghost Brothers on my iPod, and looking forward to lunch at 1pm. We all froze when it first started - was it just another small aftershock - looked at each other and paused for all of about a split second... and made a run for the door. The mechanic on the corner of Stanley Street and Colombo Street has panels of glass at the top of their garage – not anymore. The noise of those glass panels made my heart stop. It was a bit of a blur really, parked cars were moving, people were crying and running everywhere, alarms and sirens going off, water pipes bursting in the road, frantically texting and calling anyone and everyone we could. Nothing was connecting... is Ishaan okay at kindy? Is the Hare Krsna temple okay... what about the Deities?

It took me 45 minutes just to get out of Sydenham. I left work about 1.30pm, and headed the usual way home. Naive of me – I didn’t realise the enormity of the situation. Detour after detour, bumper to bumper traffic, and moving at 3km/hour. At first I tried taking little side streets to avoid the backed up traffic, but every street I turned, the packed cars were there. No trying to find a shortcut... everyone wanted out. Tried calling Kindercare again to get hold of Ishaan. No answer.

Every so often I would glance down a main street towards town – Colombo street, Manchester Street, Tuam Street, Cashel Mall. Everywhere I looked, the streets looked like a war-zone. “I wonder if there will be any deaths in this one” I thought.

My answer came soon enough. At first I didn’t believe she was actually dead, just someone injured. Why was no one helping her? She wasn’t moving, just lay peacefully, almost as if sleeping. The rubble and concrete slabs around her seemed unnatural. Then, admist the alarms, sirens, sobbing and crying, I heard a pierced scream and saw someone throw themselves on the body. Was she alive? I watched closely for any sign of life, but the non-stop wailing of her friend/partner/colleague/stranger were not comforting for me. Reality of the situation was fast becoming apparent. An aftershock suddenly rocked the city, my car swayed and rocked, bricks fell from the building to my left, and the image of pedestrians shocked and panicked faces is imprinted in my mind.

The traffic in front of me had moved considerably, I guess I’d been too distracted to move. I took advantage of the gap in traffic to slip into the next road and turn down a side street. I don’t care if I meet another traffic jam, I just couldn’t be anywhere near the city buildings and see destructiveness and horror like I’d just seen. I tried to get through to Kindercare again, the number still wouldn’t connect.

My main focus now was getting to Ishaan, though this proved harder than I thought. Buildings were still tumbling in all directions, people crying everywhere, ambulances and fire engines flying past all the time. Detours throughout the city meant I ended up in Avonside Drive, an area scattered with road cracks, burst water pipes and liquefaction the caused problems for almost every car that drove down it. Thank god for my full time 4WD!

Three hours and three closed bridges later, I decided to just abandon my car by one bridge, and just walk the 15 blocks to Kindercare, though I had no clue what to do once I got there. Two blocks down the road brought me to an older lady simply sitting in her car, stunned, not doing much at all. I stopped to check she was okay, and if she needed any help.

"I'm not sure. All I know is I need to get to Wainoni Road, on the other side of the bridge"

Her face had this faraway look, like she was dreaming of a place that did not include horror like the day had delivered.

"I can't really face the long drive to find a safe route home. I mean who knows if any bridges at all are even open!"

The solution came to us both at the same time and without skipping a beat, we offered each others cars to one another. After exchanging names and phone numbers, we quietly drove off in our respective directions, not only happy to have some sort of transport to get home and get to our loved ones, but glad to have been there for each other.


My story could go on forever. How I got to Ishaan and he told me the wiggly wobbly made him fall off the slide. How we then went to the temple and sobbed for the loss of the building and, more heartbreakingly, our beloved Nitai Gaurachandra. How it took us another hour to get home – a home with no power or water. How we then spent the evening at our neighbours house, provided with a lovely cup of hot chai by another neighbour, made on a small gas camping cooker. How texts and calls were coming in from all over the world to check I was okay.

But my story is insignificant compared to some. Because I am okay, my close friends and family have all been accounted for, my home is undamaged. Some people aren’t so lucky, and its them I’m thinking of, its them my heart goes out to. My darling friend Brooke is still waiting and hoping for a miracle for her best friend Adam, still missing... and I hope and pray with her. And she isn’t the only one... I hope and pray for the 155 people confirmed dead, and the many many others still missing. I hope and pray for my amazing Hare Krsna temple to rise up stronger and even better than before. I pray and hope Sri Sri Nitai Gaurachandra with show us Their beautiful smiles again.

Today marks a week since our lives have changed. I stood in silence alongside Police Officers in Papanui as the whole city came to a standstill at 12:51pm, and heard quiet sobs and choked tears come from the most strongest of men.
Kia kaha Otautahi (Be strong Christchurch)."

Change

Part of the reason behind me writing this blog, is to see the change that is brought about as a result of this new adventure. I've never really liked change too much - I like being comfortable in my surroundings, my house, my job, in my daily routine. I like to know that with all the uncertainty in this world, I can rely on the fact that my house is on Knowles street, I will have weetbix for breakfast, and that the supermarket at Northlands mall be open if I decide to go shopping for Whittakers chocolate late at night. The reliability of these things gives me comfort. So it seems that as a result of my large dislike for change, I have never really had much of an adventure to write about, one that would bring about such a difference in me and my outlook on life.

Yet here I am, selling up house in NZ, and swapping jandals for bare feet, shorts for saris, my car for a bicycle, weetbix for kitchari, and even morning wake-up from 7am to 5am.

Don't get me wrong, I've swapped these things before plenty of times - India is the one place I've traveled to numerous times. But this time is different, this time I am opening up my heart and life to change, accepting things that come my way, however different or annoying they may be. That includes mosquitoes and the discomfort they cause, the frogs that come out at night and sometimes get underfoot, accepting the extreme heat (not to mention extreme SWEAT!!), accepting the fact that chocolate from India is just not the same as Whittakers Dark Chocolate or Cadburys Black Forest chocolate. If I try to resist this change, I will only get frustrated and agitated and this whole experience would be fruitless.

I'm making it sound as if this change is so difficult. Its not. In fact inevitably change is constant. Like the weather - this week it is sweltering hot, last month there was a storm practically every night... and next month it is monsoon. Ishaan changes every day, some changes more noticeable than others! And here in Mayapur there's the good kind of change - the early morning wake-ups, the range of beautiful fruits that are now accessible to me, the positive surroundings for Ishaan, all the wonderful new friends I'm making, the fact that I am learning to cook dishes now that I never even knew existed. These positive differences certainly outweigh the negative ones, and in fact I am rather taking a small liking to change.

So bring it on, change. Show me beauty I have never even seen or heard of before. Introduce me to people with personalities that I have never encountered before. Open up new experiences for me that I have never experienced. Challenge me with decisions that I have never had to make. Show me love that I have never felt before. Test my faith and make me into a better person, a better servant of Sri Radha.

Only time will tell if I have accepted or resisted.

Mayapur Skies

I think by the end of my stay here in Mayapur, I will have a whole album full of just Mayapur skies. And not just sunsets either. Stormclouds, rain, rays of light peeping through the cloud formations, sunsets and maybe even a sunrise or two.

Is it that the skies here are so much more beautiful and much more varying than in NZ? I've never felt the need to whip out my camera and capture the beauty of the never-ending roof above us before. Or is it that now I finally have time to stop and smell the roses and enjoy the sunshine....

Lord Jagannath complete!

In case you didn't read already, I wrote about wanting to paint Lord Jagannath here