Letters from Badrinath
(See details about our next
trip to Badrinath.)
Letters include:
The Road to Badrinath, Part
I and Part II
To the Land of My Guru
Traveling within India, Our
Pilgrimage to Rishikesh
Testimonials from Badrinath Pilgrims
The Road to Badrinath, Part I
by Jaya Helin, September 25, 2007
(from the
US Ananda Web site blog)
These are notes from the pilgrimage by Ananda devotees to the
Himalayan region of Badrinath, India, in September 2007.
The pilgrimage road to Badrinath is long and winding, symbolic
of our own spiritual quest. Pilgrims in the old days, before the
road, would walk the 300 kilometers from Himalayan foothills town
of Rishikesh, but few do so now, with the exception of an occasional
sadhu with water pot, blanket and staff (or its modern equivalent,
an umbrella).
You still can see the old pilgrimage
trail visible on the opposite hillsides, snaking from village
to village, carrying the traffic of the local Garhwali people
to terraced fields, the river far below. My imagination couldn't
stop thinking, "What
would it be like to walk that trail, all the way, once again?"
We left Delhi on the morning train and by noon reached Hardwar,
the starting point of the pilgrims' journey. There were
32 of us, 16 Indians, 8 American residents from our ashram, 7
from Ananda communities in the USA and 1 Canadian, a nice mix
of devotees from East and West who would together make the journey
to Badrinath.
Traveling with Indian companions would prove to be particularly
enjoyable because they are a reservoir of knowledge about customs
most foreigners know little about. When in doubt about what to
do, just look to the Indians and do the same.
At the train station, we were met by our guide Mahavir, who loaded
us into 8 SUVs with drivers. We embarked immediately for our first
day's destination of Devprayag, a couple of hours beyond
Rishikesh.
You may be wondering, "Badrinath? Why go there?" Answering
this can be a bit difficult because people make pilgrimages
for many reasons, some spiritual and others mundane.
Badrinath is an ancient pilgrimage site, located at about 10,300
ft in the Himalayas at the headwaters of the Alaknanda River.
It was through Badrinath that the Pandava brothers passed, as
recounted in the Mahabharata, on their final journey to heaven.
All along the route from Rishikesh are temples, shrines and sacred
spots associated with stories from the Indian epics, each with
a tale to tell. Above Badrinath is the village of Mana where Saint
Vyasa is said to have lived while reciting the Mahabharata to
Ganesha. In need of a writing implement, Ganesha broke off one
of his tusks to use as a pen, so devoted was he to his task. His
cave too is there.
Close to Vyasa's cave flows the mystical river Saraswati,
bursting in full flow from a mountainside crevice. It's
quite amazing to see because no one knows from where the river
comes before appearing in full force, only slightly smaller than
the Yuba River in Nevada County.
After flowing but a few hundred yards it merges with the Alaknanda.
There, it is said to mystically go underground to reappear at
the sangham (confluence) of the Yamuna and Ganga in Allahabad,
site of the kumbha mela (large religious festival).
Yogis say the Saraswati is a symbol of the sushumna, the mystical
channel in the astral spine, the Ganga and Yamuna being the ida
and pingala nerve channels on either side.
During and after the reign of Ashok, Buddhism became the dominant
religion in northern India, supplanting the ancient Hindu practices
in Badrinath until Adi (The First) Shankara came, probably sometime
during the first millennium AD.
You can see the Buddhist influence in the architecture of the
Badrinath temple. Shankara's birth date is hotly debated,
but all agree that his life and influence profoundly affected
the religious practices and philosophy of India. He is said to
have attained enlightenment in Joshimath, a little ways downstream
from Badrinath, and it was Sankara who revived and reorganized
the ancient Order of Swamis into its present form.
He established four maths (centers of spiritual worship/pilgrimage),
one in each corner of India, to spiritually unify the country.
To Badrinath he sent priests from his native Kerala to oversee
the worship of Lord Badrinarayan in the temple, and this tradition
continues to this day.
Shankara was a proponent of absolute advaita (non-dualism) as
is expressed in the philosophy of Vedanta. Some say he was a former
incarnation of Swami Sri Yukteswar or of Paramhansa Yogananda,
and indeed, there are many similarities in their lives. Yogananda
said that Shankara was initiated into Kriya Yoga by Babaji in
Varanasi.
Local lore says that upon the arrival of Buddhism, local devotees
of Lord Badrinarayan (a form of Vishnu), hid the stone image of
his form in the Alaknanda River, or in the hot-spring pool next
to the temple, in order to preserve it from destruction by the
Buddhist priests.
Other versions of the story say the Buddhists submerged the image
into the river when they cleansed the temple of Hindu images.
Shankara is said to have divined, in vision, the location of the
stone image, and to have plunged into the rapids to recover it,
a Herculean feat if true.
One version of the story says he promised
to restore the image if the local people would worship it appropriately.
Upon the villagers' concent, he "raised" the stone
from the river. In any case, the stone was installed in the
temple and has been worshipped daily ever since.
The smooth, black stone stands about 30? high and has upon it,
in relief, an image of a yogi sitting in meditation pose. The
image looks strikingly similar to the drawing of Mahavatar Babaji,
an incarnation of Lord Krishna in our Kriya Yoga tradition, who
is an incarnation of Lord Vishnu in Hinduism. It is said that
the stone is not carved, and that the image on it is naturally
occurring.
Many, if not most, locals consider Babaji
of the Kriya Yoga tradition and Lord Badrinarayan (Sometimes
called Badri Vishel or Lord Badrinath. "Badri" is a name for Lakshmi, Vishnu's consort.
"Nath" means husband), to be one and the same.
For all these reasons, Badrinath is considered to be a place
to which devout Hindus should make pilgrimage if possible. Many
of the Indians who participated in our pilgrimage spoke of having
wanted to visit Badrinath since before they came to know of Yogananda.
Once they read the Autobiography of a Yogi, their desire increased
because Badrinath is said to be in the region where Mahavatar
Babaji lives, and many stories associated with personal encounters
with him are centered there.
Because of this tradition, pictures of Babaji from the Autobiography
of a Yogi are commonly seen and it is not unusual to meet people
who say they have met the great Mahavatar, or who claim to be
one of his direct disciples. In fact, one man complained that
a bad consequence of Yogananda's Autobiography has been
the creation of so many Babajis, each claiming authenticity!
All along the route to Badrinath are small temples and spots
of spiritual significance. Merging with the Alaknanda on its journey
downstream are other rivers descending from holy sites. A bath
at each confluence (sangham) is said to wash away past sins and
purify one for a visit to the temple in Badrinath.
It was at the first such major sangam at Devprayag that we stopped
for our first night's rest. Here is found an old temple
where Lord Rama did 14 years of meditation and austerity in penance
for killing the demon Ravana. Here too the rivers Alaknanda and
Bhagirathi join and become the Ganga.
Traditionally, it is the Bhagirathi that one follows upstream
to reach the origin of the Ganga at Gomukh, but our journey would
follow the larger Alaknanda. Tradition demanded, of course, that
we stop and bathe and so we all filed down to the river, crossed
the footbridge and walked to the waters' edge. An iron railing
is there to prevent one from being swept away and pujaris (priests)
guide devotees through the appropriate mantras if desired.
I, along with the rest of our group,
made my way to the water and found myself being blessed by
a friendly pujari [Hindu priest]. He prompted me in repetition
of the appropriate Sanskrit slokas [verses] which I did my
best to utter correctly, word for word. His concluding phrase, "Yada, yada, yada, 200 rupees" had
me stumped, and I was forced to repeat it a few times.
It didn't sound Sanskrit to me, especially the last couple
of words, but I matched the pujari word for word, until it dawned
on me that I owed the fellow 200 rupees! An unholy thought of
whether I should bargain crossed my mind. I didn't. I just
took my dip, dunking myself three times in the cold water, and
felt amazingly refreshed and clean.
The road into the Himalayas is so very, very beautiful that it's
hard to do it justice. Steep mountain flanks border each side
of the river, ascending thousands of feet. At the lower elevations
they rise at a 45 degree angle and support forest and terraced
fields of rice, millet and vegetables, but by the time we reached
Badrinath, the slopes were often sheer with trees and villagers
were few and far between.
Landslides across the road were a constant sight, but because
Badrinath is close to the Chinese border, this is an area of strategic
importance to the Indian army. They are quick to clear the road
when necessary, although it was not uncommon for us to be halted
while bulldozers worked.
Locals said this year's monsoon was the
heaviest in 50 years, and the damage done to the road was evidence
of its power. All along the roadside are seen men and women
with hammers, breaking rock into gravel for the road. What
a job! I asked Vijay, our other guide, if these were local
workers, but he said, "No, they are mostly from Bihar.
They come for a year's contract to work on the roads."
This area of India is known as Garhwal, and like most hill regions,
the locals are mostly poor and engage in subsistence agriculture.
The terraced fields climb many hundreds, and sometime more than
a thousand, feet up and down the sides of mountains, wherever
there is enough soil to support crops.
A common sight is that of women carrying enormous loads of grass
to be stored as winter feed for their cows and goats. Never do
you see men working in the fields, and its said that almost all
work on the land is done by the women.
I asked about this and was told that young men often leave the
village to seek work in cities, sending cash back to support their
families, while the older Garhwali hillmen are mostly idle, spending
their days drinking tea and gossiping, leaving most everything
else to the women. It certainly seemed that way. I mention this
unflattering characterization of the local, older hillmen only
because it was repeated to me, with distinct disdain, at least
6 times by our guides and the young drivers.
In any case, seeing how hard the women work reinforced my great
respect for them as the foundation of the country.
The road to Badrinath passed through
Rudraprayag where Jim Corbett shot the famous man-eating tiger
that killed 125 people. I remember reading that story in one
of Corbett's books years ago, and it was fun to see where it
actually took place. A little further we stopped at a small
shrine to the eagle Garuda, the "vehicle" of Vishnu,
and there took a stone from the nearby stream. It is said that
anyone who keeps such a stone in their house need never worry
about snakes coming there. Mahavir told us a story of how he
brought many such stones to his village home, there keeping
the snakes away.
As an aside, let me tell you another story that Mahavir recounted.
Besides being a guide, he also does regional social work and has
been elected the sarpanch (headman) of his village.
Not too long ago, a woman in his village was bitten on her finger
by a cobra, and came immediately to him for help. The headman
must deal with everything! She could feel the venom moving up
her arm and it was apparent that should it reach the core of her
body, she would die.
Because the village is remote, carrying
her to a clinic for modern medical treatment was not an option,
so he called upon the village "mantra man" to come
immediately. He repeated the appropriate mantras (incantations)
to counteract the bite, all the while making a clawing motion
on her arm from her shoulder to hand.
Amazingly, the pain and venom retreated and left her. She was
told to avoid certain foods and to do certain rituals to complete
the healing process. One of the things she was told not to do
was to comb her hair, but after some time had passed, she couldn't
resist temptation and used a comb.
Immediately, the pain returned to her finger and the venom started
its movement once again up her arm. In a panic, she called upon
Mahavir who again summoned the mantra man. Naturally, he was very
angry but he cured her nevertheless.
Mahavir explained that the mantra man follows an ancient tradition
that prevents him from ever accepting money for his services,
and he must respond to every plea for help.If he refuses to respond,
or if he takes payment, the power of the mantras will leave him
for someone else.
At Joshimath is the cave where Adi Shankara
lived and received enlightenment. It is under the canopy of
a large mulberry tree said to be 2500 years old. We stopped
for an hour to meditate in the cave and visit the Shiva temple
under the tree. I walked the traditional three times around
and tried to feel Shankara's presence but I wasn't successful.
Some in our group were very touched by this spot but I couldn't
get past the noise drifting up the hillside from below and
all the hustle and bustle of modern India. I wonder what it
was like in Shankara's time–probably just jungle and
river.
Eventually, after a long, long day of driving,
we reached Badrinath in the evening, tired but satisfied with
all the wonderful experiences and sights encountered along the
way. We checked into our hotel and prepared for our early morning
visit to the temple of Lord Badrinarayana.
The Road to Badrinath, Part II
by Jaya Helin, September, 2007
(from the
US Ananda Web site blog)
Badrinath is quiet at 4:00 am, the rushing waters of the Alaknanda
the only sound to break the silence. A few of my fellow pilgrims
and I rose early to take a traditional morning bath at the temple
hot spring. There to the right of the bridge and from a lighted
pavillion by the river's edge, steam rose in the morning
chill. That must be the place, the Tapta Kund, where hot water
gushes from a natural spring to fill bathing tanks for both men
and women.
The men's tank is about 4 x 5 meters and about 1.5 meters
deep. Shishir and I found a spot for our clothes and dipped our
feet into the water. Yeow! It was burning hot!
I tried again but couldn't keep my foot
in for more than five seconds. A dozen others were at the kund,
all at the edge with cups for dipping and pouring water over
themselves. I regretted my lack of a cup and squatted at water's
edge to use my hands instead. Off to my left came a splash
as a sadhu jumped into the pool, rubbing himself happily in
the steaming water, seemingly oblivious to the heat. "Well," I thought,
"that's what sadhus do." A few moments later,
taking his queue perhaps from the sadhu, Shishir jumped in too.
Dang! Now what was I to do? I had come this far, so turning back
was out of the question. I took the plunge. Wow, it was hot! Hotter
than any bath I've ever taken. I dunked myself three times
and quickly hauled myself out without delay, but then jumped in
again for good measure.
It was hot enough to be painful, but not so hot as to cause injury.
In other words, it just right for tapasya (spiritual austerity),
and the temperature had the side benefit of preventing the tank
from becoming overly crowded. I felt a wonderful, tingling glow
afterward and a deep sense of contentment. Truly, the bath was
purifying and a blessing. Thank you Shishir for leading the way.
By the time we had dressed and made our way to the temple, the
others had arrived. We left our shoes with a friendly vendor and
went in for the morning worship of Lord Badrinarayan. It's
only in the morning that the image can be seen uncovered. During
the ceremony, the Nawal (chief priest) washes the image, spreads
sandalwood paste onto it, performs an arati (devotional ceremony)
and dresses it in garlands and fabric, leaving only the face visible.
The paste is said to "cool" Lord
Badrinarayan from the heat generated by his yoga meditation.
Offerings from the audience are collected and placed before
him, later to be redistributed back as prasad (blessed food).
Everyone receives something, whether a sweet or a piece of
the flower garlands offered to the image, a representation
of Lord Vishnu.
The morning worship was a treat, but as a Westerner brought up
outside the Hindu tradition, I tended to approach the ceremony
as a detached observer more than as a participant.
I couldn't help but remark mentally upon the attentive
faces in the crowd, the colorful temple decorations, the head
priest's costume, the sounds of the bells, the hard floor
and the drone of the chants. All these wonderfully new impressions
were mentally stored, sifted and sorted during the ceremony, with
the unfortunate result that I felt little divine presence.
The Nawal, who I later found to be a sweet, joyful man, was so
stern and lacking in devotion during the ceremony that I wasn't
drawn in. I could sense that those who could attune themselves
inwardly, received much more. I resolved to return at a time when
I could meditate and be alone with the image, but sadly our schedule
didn't allow it.
The remainder of our first day was spent
in the village of Mana, 2 kilometers north of Badrinath. This
is where Vyasa's (the author of the Bhagavad Gita) and Ganesha's
(Hindu deity) caves are. The trail to them is known as the
Stairway to Heaven. It is also the place of the Sarawati River
and other spots associated with Indian lore. Sadhana Devi (Jaya's
wife: editor's note) and I could feel the effects of elevation
on our breathing as we trekked up the pathways. I was reminded
of backpacking in my youth at high elevations in the Sierras.
Go at a pace you can sustain and don't stop—just like
the spiritual path!
Each in the group explored the area on their own. Some walked
the trails to higher elevations, others spent time in the caves,
and some returned to Badrinath. I chose to meditate at the spot
where the Saraswati and Alaknanda rivers meet, then crossed over
the river to make my way to Badrinath, following a trail on the
opposite side of the Alaknanda.
It was a beautiful walk through fields cultivated by Tibetan
women weeding, hoeing, and carrying their great loads of grass.
The air was warm and clear, and all around, mountains framed the
valley floor. Badrinath and Mana are nestled in a Himalayan valley,
one-half kilometer wide with steep slopes on either side. Nilkanth,
a high Himalayan peak, snow-capped and well over 20,000 feet can
be seen from time to time. Since I had the trail mostly to myself,
with only an occasional villager passing to and from the fields,
I stopped frequently to meditate on the rock walls bordering the
terraced fields. Walk, meditate, walk, meditate, until I found
myself once again at the temple.
Our second day was reserved for visits to Brahmarishi Swami Rishidev
Ji Maharaj Hathyogi, also known as Baksawale Baba, and to other
babas (holy men) in the vicinity.
Baksawale Baba lives in a small kutir (hut) up a side valley
from town, far enough away to dissuade casual visitors. He is
a devotee of Babaji, and is known for having a metal box into
which he reportedly sequesters himself in a state of samadhi (union
with God) during the snowy winter months, astrally (in a disembodied
state) traveling with his guru while his body remains protected
from the insects, mice and other small animals that might disturb
it. Such a thing, if true, is extraordinary and sparks a good
measure of curiosity. Mahavir had made prior arrangements to make
sure our visit was welcomed, and so we headed up the mountainside
to see him.
We had planned to hike up in 2 groups—fast walkers and
slow walkers—with the latter leaving early so we would all
arrive at the same time. Daya, Keshava (tour leaders from Ananda
India) and I designated ourselves as "fast walkers," and
caught the others at the base of the mountain before they had
even started on the steep part of the climb.
The result was that Daya, Mahavir and I made it to the kutir
a half hour before most of the others. Courtesy demanded that
we wait for the group, but since we were there and the door was
open, we went in. Two young women from Germany were outside affixing
a new tarp to the roof of the kutir, while two others were inside
cutting vegetables for Baba's lunch.
We pronamed and introduced ourselves, telling of our trip to
Badrinath and of Ananda. His kutir was very small and had space
only for half a dozen to sit comfortably. There, against one wall
was his metal box, about four feet high. It looked to be made
of stainless steel or aluminum, guessing the latter because someone
had to carry it all the way up the mountainside.
I asked permission to sit, and Baba invited me inside, communicating
through gestures and a small chalkboard because he observes silence.
He proceeded to show Daya and I his collection of photographs
and letters received from previous visitors and seemed much pleased
when we recognized faces from Ananda communities and related to
him a few details about this person or that. When other pilgrims
began to arrive, we moved to a pandal (tent) that had been set
up adjacent to the kutir. At Baba's request, we began chanting,
which he enjoyed. He then instructed us to chant Aum 11 times,
and followed that with a brief period of meditation.
All this time, he communicated through short messages on his
chalkboard in Hindi and English, but after meditation he began
to use his voice, saying he was commanded to do so by Babaji.
The German women were surprised and said it was the most he had
spoken to anyone in many years.
He told us of his life, the spiritual path, his respect for Swami
Kriyananda, and of many other things, most of which I cannot remember
clearly. He used to be a professor at a university in Delhi for
18 years, married with 2 children. At the age of 28, his wife
died and he was plunged into a period of deep grief, which ultimately
lead him to renounce his worldly life and take vows of sannyas
(renunciate).
Thus began a period of seclusion, meditation
and tapasya (austerities) until 2003, when he was in a tent
during a snowstorm on the Gangotri glacier, high above Gomukh
(high Himalaya). There, he said, he "died." It was unclear to me whether he meant "physically
dead" or whether he meant he was in a superconscious state.
Whatever the case, he awoke to find his head in the lap of a
radiant being, a person 7 feet tall with golden skin and golden
hair. This, he said, was Babaji who had come to rescue his disciple.
Baksawale spoke little of what happened next, other than to say
he was directed to go to Badrinath to continue his meditation
until November of this year, after which he will go, as directed
by Babaji, to Tibet to continue his austerities in complete isolation
for three more years. After that, he will return and travel to
Germany, as instructed by Babaji.
Here are a few things I remember him saying. He can remember
clearly his last 3 lives. 3 lifetimes ago, he was a very poor
man but very generous. I assumed that lifetime was spent as an
Indian but I am unsure. 2 lifetimes ago, he was born as an Englishman,
and it was because of this past association with the West that
he is being drawn back to Europe in this lifetime. There, he said,
disciples await him.
The conversation veered in other directions at that point and
he said nothing of his immediate past life. Babaji, he said, is
2,500 years old, and omnipresent. In Tibet, Babaji has two disciples,
each over 200 years old. When Baksawale travels to Tibet later
this year, he doesn't know exactly where he is to go, but
trusts he will be guided by Babaji. He emphasized more than once
that we are the Atman (soul), not this body. He expressed great
respect for Swami Kriyananda and commended Swamiji's service
to his guru and Babaji. I asked him if he would like to send a
message back to Swamiji with our group, and he said that he wanted
Swamiji to know that he would look after the other students of
Swamiji planning to visit him in October from Italy.
People ask me, "What did you think of him? Is it all true?"
To that I can only say, "I'm not qualified to judge."
We understand life through the filter
of our own intuition and experience, and Baksawale's life is
outside my realm. Some, out of habitual skepticism, will reject
anything hinting at the supernatural, while others tend to
accept all claims unquestioningly. My tendency is to neither
accept nor reject, but to allow for all possibilities. As the
Bible says, "The tree is known
by the fruit it bears." By that measure, I liked Baksawale
Baba and felt an attraction to him because of the calm stillness
in his eyes, the way he held his body, his smile, and because
of the devotion he expressed when speaking of Babaji. He seemed
sincere.
When visiting those with spiritual power, there is a tendency
to look for personal gain in the form of blessings, uplift, or
personal benefit. We want to receive to ourselves rather than
give, limiting our capacity to have blessings flow through us.
While listening to Baksawale Baba, I felt a strong impulse to
give him whatever good wishes I could in response to an intuitive
perception I felt quite clearly.
When he told of his plans to go to Germany
in 2011, my thought was, "Yes! He'll be very popular with the Europeans.
They will be attracted and drawn to him, perhaps more so than
Americans." There is something about Europeans that resonates.
I could feel it in the 4 women who were serving him. Following
close on the heels of that thought was a remembrance of how Master
prayed to Babaji before embarking to America for assurance that
he would not become lost in the materialism of the West. That
was my sincere prayer for Baksawale Baba. Because of my warm feelings
for him, I hope he uses the next 3 years to inure himself against
the tendency of Indian swamis who go to the West and become celebrities.
As they say about India, "There are lots of gurus, but very
few disciples."
In the early afternoon, most made their way down the mountainside
to visit 2 other holy men, both living in the same general vicinity.
I gave them my pronams (traditional Hindu gesture of greeting
and respect), and went down the mountain to be by myself and meditate.
I met with the rest of my group later in the afternoon for an
appointment with the head priest of the temple, the man I described
earlier as being very cold during the morning puja.
What a surprise to find him warm and joyful that afternoon! It
was like night and day. He shared stories, told of his life, the
history of the temple and, toward the end, brought out a picture
of Babaji (I think), drawn many years ago by a prior temple priest.
No one was exactly sure of the picture's provenance.
The next morning, it was time to say goodbye to Badrinath. We
loaded up the cars and made the reverse trip down the mountain
to Rishikesh, stopping overnight at Rudraprayag and then at Vashista
Guha the next day to meditate in the cave where Swami Purushottamananda
lived for forty years.
I had my best meditation of the whole trip there, sitting in
the silence on the hard rock floor for well over an hour, absorbing
the experiences of the days before. Close by is the cave Swami
Kriyananda inhabited for a month when still with SRF. We stopped
at Swami Shankarananda's Kriya Yoga temple, the Shivananda
ashram, and had time to wander about Rishikesh the next day and
visit Anandamoyi Ma's ashram in Hardwar before catching
the evening train back to Delhi, arriving home after midnight.
Our pilgrimage to Badrinath was a wonderful
experience that I'm still integrating. I mentally return, again
and again, to things that happened on the journey, finding new
inspiration and lessons as the days pass. Spending time on a
spiritual adventure with other devotees builds lifetime bonds,
and I certainly felt that to be the case for me and Sadhana
Devi with our fellow pilgrims.
The dedication
and commitment I saw in them, in the other pilgrims along the
road, and in the sadhus we met in Badrinath all inspired me
to meditate deeper and longer. Ultimately, outward pilgrimage
is but a symbol of the journey each of us takes within, strengthening
our resolve to tread the long and winding road to Self-realization.
To the Land of My Guru
Pilgrimage to the Himalayas with Ananda members
By Phoenix Harmony Putney
The characteristic features of Indian
culture have long been a search for ultimate verities and
the concomitant disciple-guru relationship…Though India
possesses a civilization more ancient than that of any other
country, few historians have noted that her feat of survival
is by no means an accident, but a logical incident in the
record of devotion to the eternal verities that India has
offered through her best men to every generation. —Parmahansa Yogananda on his native land, Autobiography
of a Yogi
I cannot count the number of times I have urged friends and students
to partake of Yogananda's timeless autobiography. I have
recounted to many how that book transformed my life.
After I devoted myself to kriya yoga, worldly burdens and desires
began to fall away. But one desire, implanted upon my first reading
of Autobiography of a Yogi in 1988, remained and enlarged over
the years: to make a pilgrimage to the holy land of my guru's
birth, which he described so tantalizingly it became irresistible.
With each rereading, the conviction grew: that my physical presence
in India would mark a milestone in my spiritual journey.
Wandering day after day over the Holy Land, I was more than
ever convinced of the value of pilgrimage. ibid.
That desire to visit India with fellow kriyabans was finally
fulfilled last September, when I joined 30 Ananda members for
an unforgettable journey to the storied Himalayas, those breathtaking
mountains which beckoned the young Mukunda as he doggedly pursued
his singular goal: to find God.
Now it was my turn to experience the
treasures of India. After 19 years of fantasizing about it,
I was finally being given the great privilege of experiencing
the land of rishis firsthand—not
as a tourist merely seeing the sights, but as a true pilgrim,
joyously entering into divine fellowship with others whose
love of our inimitable guru line matched my own.
I am so very grateful that I passed up previous opportunities
to visit India on cultural exchanges, suppressing my usual impatience
until the trip of my dreams materialized. How fortunate I felt
when the last available spot on the Ananda tour fell to me: an
auspicious omen, surely!
When I began receiving emails weeks ahead
of departure from tour leaders Keshava Taylor and his wife
Daya of Ananda India, I knew I would be in good hands. Not
only did they give details of our itinerary—Rishikesh, Badrinath, Devprayag and several
holy shrines—they offered useful advice for adjusting
to India, its customs, food, climate, roads, etc. They and their
able co-leaders, Durga and Vidura Smallen, are to be commended
for their thorough preparations that made this an unforgettably
rich and precious experience for me and each of the others,
half westerners and half Indians. In contrast to other situations
in which strangers are thrown together, our little band got
along so harmoniously, it seemed as if we had known and loved
one another for years. The natives were especially accommodating
to us "foreigners."
[Before heading north, we were treated to two unforgettable days
at Ananda's palatial ashram in Gurgaon, outside Delhi, which
was celebrating Kriyananda's 60th year of discipleship.
I was transported by the chanting, moving discourse and discipleship
vows at the morning puja, where I was captivated by one of the
most angelic human beings I have ever seen: Brahmacharya Nirmala's
ageless face fairly glowed with the radiance of divine love, her
sweet voice a melodious tribute to Master's teachings.
That night I wore my new embroidered punjabi (Indian bloomers
and tunic) to the festive celebration at the nearby community
center, covered in garlands, flower petals, silks and decorations
to honor Swami Kriyanada, who greeted over 200 guests warmly and
gave a stirring talk about his remarkable journey and the great
truths Yogananda had taught him. He presented each of us, one
by one, with his just-completed supplement to his Bhagavad Gita
commentaries.
Bowing before him shortly after he had
arrived, my long chiffon scarf had fallen from my shoulders. "It's been doing
that since I put it on!" I laughed; he graciously helped
restore it to its proper place. What a kind gentleman. As I waited
to receive the booklet from his hands, I hung the scarf behind
my neck. Not the accepted Indian style, I knew, but—"Look,
now it won't fall off!" I smiled when I reached him.
Eyes dancing, we both had a good laugh, something I noticed he
did often. He continued greeting each guest individually while
everyone enjoyed a sumptuous buffet of Indian delicacies. We
each received another gift as well: a video about Kriyananda's
dream to establish an Ananda community in India.
Memorable as these Ananda events were, they were mere prelude
to the wonders that awaited us to the north.
A train carried us to Hardiwar, where
we transferred to eight sturdy jeeps flying orange flags that
would take us the rest of the way. The land grew ever more
mountainous as our skilled drivers negotiated curvy, congested
(sometimes washed-out) roads. It was nearly sunset when we
arrived at the picturesque mountain village of Devprayag, where
the Bhagirathi and Alaknanda Rivers meet to form the Ganges.
This marked the site of "baptism."
Happily crossing the footbridge, [where
a friendly tan cow nuzzled me,] we ambled along the opposite
banks by the gorgeous, swiftly flowing waters, thence down
concrete steps into the actual confluence, enclosed by floating
metal railings. Durga and the other leaders began chanting "Lord I am thine" to
harmonium accompaniment, and soon had us all singing along
as we entered the chilly water. Dhoti-clad priests recited
incantations and blessings, as we allowed the sacred waters
to work their magic.
Indian lore decrees that thrice immersing
one's body fully into these headwaters washes away sins and
assures long life and prosperity. I was reluctant to go all
the way under ("Wimpy
Americans!"), but as I watched others doing so and happily
emerge, I agreed to follow suit. With the Smallens holding
my hands, I nervously took the plunge—once, then twice
more.
Hesitation turned to joy, then exhilaration
as I experienced the rejuvenating effects of this sacred ritual.
Suddenly I felt like a child again, playfully splashing in
the Hindus' holiest river. The priests then presented us with
tiny "boats" made of pipal leaves and filled with
prasad, flower petals and lit candles, which we launched into
the Ganges as a symbol of our reverence. What an awe-inspiring
sight against the sun dipping behind the mountains!
The joy of this unexpected soaking lasted
throughout the evening, when we gathered on the terrace of
our riverside hotel for the first of twice-daily satsangs that
would open us to even greater experiences. "It cannot but change you," our
leaders assured us. Indeed, was that not why we had come?
Following the Alaknanda the better part of the next day, ever
higher we climbed until at last we reached Badrinath, one of India's
holiest pilgrimage sites. The long jeep rides, shared meals and
walks gave us ample opportunity to get acquainted; how much deeper
are the conversations of pilgrims, compared to ordinary tourists!
[Long before sunrise next morning, we attended a puja in the
temple, where an ancient statue of Badrinarayan, flanked by images
of Ganesha and other Hindu deities, is enshrined in the gold-and-silver-encrusted
inner sanctum. The long-winded rituals frankly left me cold, as
we huddled together on the rough carpet in semi-darkness; but
of course, devout Hindus who had traveled far for this 4-times-daily
event were entranced. The following afternoon, we made our way
through the bustling city to be received by the young head priest,
who spoke animatedly about his training and duties and gave us
each sanctified prasad wrapped in gauze, to be placed on our altars.]
"I was conscious always that
I was in the presence of a living manifestation of God. The
weight of his divinity automatically bowed my head before
him." —Yogananda on Sri Yukteswar, Autobiography of a Yogi
While meeting living saints is a rare honor, the greatest rewards
of pilgrimage lie within one's own consciousness. Like the
rishis who have long inhabited these soaring mountains, we took
every opportunity to meditate in their cave-shrines.
The first was in the village of Mana, accessible only by foot,
near the Tibetan border. A sign at the cave's entrance declared
it to be the erstwhile writing-place of Vyasa, author of the Mahabharata,
over 5,000 years ago. Only about a dozen people could fit inside
at a time, so we took turns imbibing its holy vibrations.
Having already enjoyed visions of Ganesha and my beloved Yogananda
while meditating at the temple that morning, I was now able to
concentrate more deeply than I had in years, and was rewarded
with a vision of a gigantic peacock climbing the hill. Our guide
told me this beautiful bird was the transport of a Hindu god,
symbolizing prosperity and health, and reminded me that Lord Krishna
wore a peacock feather to represent the Spiritual Eye.
Still reeling from this marvelous vision, I hardly anticipated
the greater wonders ahead: the magnificent source of the Saraswati
River, thundering from between huge boulders into its short bed
below us, surrounded on all sides by the great Himalayas. We had
already seen dozens of gorgeous waterfalls as we drove north,
but this one, spraying rainbows as it cascaded over the crags,
overwhelmed us with its beauty.
[From this vantage point, we viewed the whole northern course
of the Saraswati before it plunges underground, to emerge 300
km south at Allahabad.] The natural bridge led us to yet another
fabled site: the Stairway to Heaven leading to the snow-covered
Neelkanth mountain, where the Pandavas exited at the end of the
Mahabarata. Our leaders regaled us with Indian folklore as we
drank in the majesties of this hallowed land.
[Another cave—Ganesha's—awaited
us as we walked back through Mana. It happened to be his birthday
that day, so monks were celebrating with gay chants and flowers
as pilgrims squeezed between its hallowed walls.]
Glorious as were the mountains—the most beautiful I had
ever seen—even more so were the inward glories I discovered
in the depths of my own being. With each successive cave-meditation,
my spirit ascended higher still: Adi Shankaracharya's at
Josimath boasts the 2500-year-old mulberry tree under which he
attained enlightenment; I could have spent days there. Inside
Vaishistha's cave near an ashram outside Rishikesh—where
I could have settled forever—the spirits of many rishis
ushered me past layer after layer of useless karma, washing away
the dross of the past, carrying me to the shores of bliss. Here
I learned not to get caught up in the visions, fascinating as
they were, but to keep moving beyond them. [Nearby, overlooking
the Ganges, was a cave where Kriyananda had spent a month in
seclusion.]
Rishikesh, "the Mecca of Yoga," is the home of many
ashrams, including a round Kriya Yoga center still being constructed
by Swami Shankarananda, a param-disciple of Swami Sri Yukteswar
and thus a spiritual "cousin" to us Yogananda devotees.
A few miles away, we visited the "granddaddy" of the
ashrams, the Divine Light Society of Swami Sivananda, the great
sage who revived the neglected town in the 20th century. [Both
of these beautiful structures proved ideal for meditation. We
also dropped by Sivanada's hermitage, where I dipped my feet
into the Ganges from his bathing ghat.]
One evening I asked [Mr. Wright, his American secretary]
a question.
"Dick, what is your impression of India?"
"Peace," he said thoughtfully. "The
racial aura is peace."
—Yogananda, ibid
Before ending our pilgrimage, we went shopping in Rishikesh's
teeming marketplace. Crossing the footbridge, the first person
I saw was a street vendor covered in peacock-feather fans. Recalling
my vision in Vyasa's cave (and seeking respite from the
sweltering heat!), I had to add one to my souvenirs of this never-to-be-forgotten
trip. Completing the transaction, I noticed the rest of our party
had gone ahead without me, leaving me alone in the crowd.
Being abandoned in a foreign country
would once have filled me with dread; but now I felt not the
least fearful, sure I would soon catch up with my companions.
This sense of safety, I realized, was enticing evidence of
how the trip was changing me. Never had I felt such sustained
calmness in unfamiliar circumstances. It had lasted the entire
pilgrimage—and beyond!
Impatience, also, had dissolved. To cement my newfound confidence,
I later spent two more hours alone exploring Rishikesh by foot,
auto-rickshaw and boat.
By the time we boarded the evening train
back to Delhi, we felt an eternal bond as disciples of one
of the greatest masters India had ever produced: our own Parmahansa
Yogananda. He is even dearer to me now that I have been to
India—cherished memories that
will feed my soul for the rest of my life. The trip exceeded my
high expectations—except one: to ride a decorated Indian
elephant. Ah well, maybe next time…
Where Ganges, woods, Himalayan caves
and men dream God—
I am hallowed; my body touched that sod. —Last words of Yogananda, from his poem "My India"
Traveling Within India: Our Pilgrimage to Rishikesh
by Nabha Cosley, March 25, 2007
(from the
US Ananda Web site blog)
This photograph was taken at a cave where
Swami Kriyananda once spent a month in seclusion. "Next door" (next
cave) is Vasishta Guha, spiritually deep and powerful, and
flowing past it is the Ganges.
Vasishta Guha has a great story behind it. For countless years,
it's said, holy people have stayed in the cave, meditating
there and making it holy. It was made well known by Swami Purushottamananda,
who lived there for 30 years in the mid-1900s.
As it is now, the cave is not very deep; perhaps forty or fifty
feet. At that point it is walled off. I've read, though,
that it extends a full twelve-and-a-half miles (twenty kilometers)
past this point!
As the story goes, Swami Purushottamananda walled off the vast
majority of the cave to stop people from disturbing the siddhas
(realized or perfected souls) who were, and perhaps still are,
sitting back there in their astral (energy-based) bodies, meditating.
Is this true? I certainly can't say for sure. However:
this cave is the one place I would make sure to go if I ever returned
to Rishikesh. It was intense.
It's interesting: these places would
be impossible to enjoy in a really meaningful way without a
spiritual practice. Can you imagine going to see holy places
just to look at them? "Oh
look. A cave. It's dark."
But when you can feel the vibrations, a cave can become a fountain
of peace. In fact, the memories that live most strongly with me
from this trip are of meditations, most especially that one at
Vasishta Guha.
I mentioned earlier that I spent less than usual time meditating
on this trip. That was definitely a loss! But: it clarified for
me the difference that long-enough meditations make: they are
essential. Since my return to America, I've made the commitment
to add a half-hour onto my daily meditation practice.
Consider that when we meditate we are
bathing in a river of inner light. Whether we actually see
light or not, it helps very much to remain in the uplifted
state of meditation—what
Lahiri Mahasaya called the calm "after-effect poise"—for
as long as possible. Otherwise the "dirt" of our lower
nature may only loosen instead of being washed away; when we
get up, it will dry and be stuck to us as ever before.
Best, though, is to enjoy meditation. It's possible to
overdo it, and I don't suppose that dry meditations, of
any length, clean our consciousness as well as those where we
experience joy or devotion.
The Badrinath trip has been a life transforming
experience!
I have involved in much deep healing work
over the years and well understand the process where as old patterns/
beliefs and toxins in body
are being released and purified one can go through much physical,
emotional, mental, etc. pain and discomfort. The Badrinath trip was
a relatively gentle process for me with deep lasting changes that I
am very grateful for the blessings of Babaji, the Masters, the vibrations
of the teachers and places we went to, and the sharing of being with
like-minded people—thank you!!!!
And thank you for organizing and making it possible
for us to be part of this journey.
—Arun Rathod, Brisbane, Australia
I just want to thank you for organizing a perfect trip to Badrinath,
and to all the places that my Babaji has visited! Since you had
anticipated any and all problems, the trip turned out to be hassle free,
thus giving us all the time to devote to the divine. I am sure some of
the meditations that people must have had were absolutely amazing, I
know I had some great experiences, and I thank you for that!
The meeting with the rawal was a very humbling experience, and the
morning Abhishek will stay imprinted on my mind for a very long time.
I enjoyed getting to know both of you, and the rest of the group.
Please keep up this great work, as you show an aspect of the divine to
his followers which requires a lot of dedication! May Babaji continue to
bless your work!
—Madhu Choudhry, New Delh
This pilgrimage has served the purpose for which I had embarked on
it. It has elevated my spirit to a higher plane and I have imbibed all
the vibrations at the different holy places and ashrams we visited. I also
carry with me the beautiful feeling of oneness with God's creations and
everything around me. The spirit of brotherhood among the members of the
group, ever willing to extend a helping hand has been a deeply touching
experience. Though there is a sad feeling that this trip has come to an
end just as everything should one day. Yet, I have made some good friends
who will be what they are to me, "friends forever."
Daya and Keshava need special mention as beautiful people who have
made this trip a memorable one.
—Pushpa Ghosh, Gurgaon
I have taken two pilgrimages with you—both to places near the Ganga.
Each time, when I look back, I see myself in the beginning of the
trip, similar to a bottle filled with ware from the Ganga—cloudy! By
the end of the trip, thanks to the wonderful vibrations, I feel crystal
clear and settled down.
The choices of places to visit and meditate are so right. My
favorites, where I meditated the deepest, were Shankaracharya's cave at
Joshimath, and the Bhajan Hall at Sivananda Ashram, and Vyasa's cave at
Badrinath.
Also, on the walk along the Saraswati River back
to the hotel from Mana, I found "myself," not as wife, mother,
daughter, or sister.
I am grateful that my Masters gave me the opportunity, and for
Keshava and Daya for the perfect planning.
—Malavika Raghuram, Singapore
The Badrinath Pilgrimage with Ananda devotees, led by Keshava and
Daya was a deep experience. It was seven days of being in a state of
uplifted consciousness—and the soul years for such times.
It was an extremely well planned pilgrimage and covered all the
spiritually vibrant spots on the way, and at, Badrinath. I was
especially impressed by the fact that a meeting with the Rawal (head
priest) was arranged at Badrintath. It brought the deity closer and
helped up appreciate the energies at the temple better.
—Dr. Vandana Sharma, Noida
I can't say enough about the many wonderful and powerful experiences
I had on our pilgrimage! Feeling the amazing power of the several sacred
places stands out. And being a part of a group of like-minded people was
a strong confirmation of how real our spiritual journey is.
—Val Baldwin, Aptos, California, USA
There are no words to express what we experienced
in Badrinath both individually and as a group.
For me it was a divine experience like never
before. I don't really remember what heaven is like but my experience
in Badrinath was the closest that I have been able to get to divinity
so far.
I love Badrinath! I hope to completely imbibe
in my Self the experience of the Divine that I received so unreservedly
on this trip and then visit for more and more ... :-)
—Ruby Bushan, Gurgaon,
India
Mala and I extend to you both and everyone at Anand Sangha our
heartfelt thanks for the great opportunity to see the holy shrines, meet
holy personalities and spend time at several very ancient places.
Above all, the time spent with so many nice people together was a treat
by itself. The travel through the Himalayas amidst the bounteous beauty
of nature—green and high mountains, the ever-flowing rivers, snow-peak mountains,
deep gorges, serene caves was heavenly. This pilgrimage to
Badrinath will remain a memorable event in our life. We remain grateful
to Anand Sangha and to you and Daya for the meticulous planning and care
for the details.
—Parimal Bhardan, Gurgaon, India
Most pilgrimages are sight-seeing tours with some attendant
headaches.
The Badrinath trip (by Keshava and company) has exceeded my
expectations, even though I was told beforehand that it would be good!
First, the basics: The planning, communication
and execution were perfect. "Everything" was thought of and
taken care of.
Second, the choice of locations was—I hate to say it again—perfect
and inspiring. I would not have gone to these places on my own. The
concept of meditating in ancient caves is fantastic and really helps
deepen the meditation practice.
The real purpose of the trip has been served: I am going back deeply
inspired and am grateful to all who made it possible.
Now, I'm looking forward to the next pilgrimage. Thank you!
—Shishir Gupta,
Gurgaon, India
