Chap. 11

My hut in India

Putting it into perspective.

Some autobiography here! In order to “tie together” all the previous elements & give some perspective of the “where & why of this book”.

In 1973, whilst in Bombay, (now Mumbai), I was getting bored with living; in ashrams established by other people, and felt that until I had my own place, I could not get to grips with a nagging question. Was I really Ganesh Giri, a Hindu holy man, and should I settle down to a life of devotion to this role? Or was I Raymond Pattison, with a totally different lifestyle and. destiny awaiting me in England? I did not wish to give up the sadhu life if I could be a successful Hindu guru. For all my spiritual progress, I had more ego than I had possessed before I started my sadhana or spiritual practice in India!

It is in fact well documented in yogic scriptures that when a person starts to attain any degree of progress in sadhana, he or she can be sidetracked very easily towards social and material benefits. My desire at that stage was not so much for money, but for social power, in the form of my own band of disciples. Hindu teachings explain that according to the laws of karma*, people with great power and money have attained that position by their struggles or penances in previous lives.

*Karma – a Sanskrit word literally meaning “action”.

It is that effort which produces good and bad “rewards”, i.e. high and low births, heaven and hell. If the fruit of those endeavors is used wisely, then one can rise to a high level. If not used wisely, then any powers or pleasure accrued is enjoyed, and thus dissipated. This can lead to a downfall and, according to gurus I have met, this fact is illustrated in the lives of some famous, or rather infamous, people. People like Hitler, for instance, could have done some great penance in past lives, but on account of self-centered interest have been re born into a life where they have misused their karmic rewards. Once the fruit of good deeds is exhausted then a person falls from whatever high position had been achieved. The descent is usually rapid.

According to karmic philosophy, people who have done good deeds and who desire sensual pleasure will find themselves enjoying a place amongst the angels until it is time to be re born. A spiritually minded person, however, who does good deeds and curbs the desire for rewards will not go on to heaven, but will be re born indefinitely into a suitable environment for further spiritual progress. This process continues until final and full self-realization is attained when the cycle of birth and re – birth is destroyed due to the absence of any self-centered desire.

Over the next few years I did not attempt to change whatever destiny had been ordained by my own karma. I did not try very hard to assert myself as a guru of others and (in spite of my inner desires) and I found that I was not attracting a following of any size. Eventually I came to the conclusion that my destiny lay elsewhere, and I was even not meant to be a Hindu. Perhaps this was for the best, as my motivation contained a lot of self-interest. In the light of karmic rules, had I become at all powerful, I would have lost the benefit of my years of sacrifice and endeavor. However, I did go on to have, at least in a very small way, an ashram of my own.

I decided to move to the area of the Narmada River in Gujerat, which had been my favorite place to stay. So I left Bombay without being fully aware of the number of months that had just passed.

I still did not have a watch, or any superfluous possessions, although I had taken to wearing footwear after six years, due to encountering the thorn strewn paths on the Narmada banks. I had ceased to wear plain drab colored ochre robes. Swami Muktananda had given me some silk dhotis and shirts in a bright orange color. 1 rather liked my new image and decided to keep this rather non ascetic look.

Apart from the “trendy” sadhu outfit though, I maintained my simple style of travel with the small shoulder bag. I never had to worry about bedding, because firstly India is usually too hot to need any, and secondly, wherever I went, I could always find a mat and a blanket if necessary. I was completely accustomed to sleeping on a hard surface with only a mat underneath, although if I stayed in someone’s house they would usually want me to have a mattress. Mosquitoes did not seem to bother me much and anyway my usual top sheet of a spare dhoti provided surprisingly good cover when stretched from toes to neck.

For a year I had found that my body had become very sensitive to the food I ate. Up until that time, I could enjoy, any food that came my way, including sweets, milk, products and spicy curries. Now I found that even small quantities of tea, sugar, or chilies were giving me skin rashes. Also if I ate any milk products or oily food I developed indigestion and then a cold. I began to try to eat very plain fare, such plain bread and boiled vegetables without any seasoning. This was not always easy as I was often dependent on getting food as available, when given to me by a household or in an ashram. Whenever I visited a village in Gujerat I would invariably get several invitations to houses for meals. The food prepared would always be rich in spices and oils, as Gujeratis love to feed their guest the best food they can. It is, of course, a good excuse for them to have a feast too. My request for plain food would often disappoint people as they felt embarrassed to offer a sadhu guest plain roti and dhal. It also made them feel guilty if they were having “gourmet” cuisine while I dined simply. I did find, though, that people respected my ideal and need for a simple diet to a large extent, and friendly families would often go out of their way to cater for me especially.

I spent the spring and summer of 1973 wandering all over a large area to the north of the Narmada. I was getting to know a lot of people in that region, with the consequence that some “devotees” were looking around their own village localities in order to find a suitable spot for me to settle down. Many towns and villages have some sort of accommodation for passing sadhus – often a hut built next to a temple. The devout locals felt that such a facility is a necessity in accordance with their religious decrees, and hope that a yogi or mahatma of some ability will come to live in their vicinity. The devout person would then be only too happy to visit such a sadhu and make sure that all the supplies needed for his upkeep are kept flowing smoothly. There is often some competition between villages to see who can build the best temple or attract the most interesting holy man.

It is very easy to assume that the type who is always running around visiting temples and sadhus has a very simple mentality. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is the educated and the wealthy who see to the finance and upkeep of temples and ashrams. Some huge new temple complexes have been built by India’s richest families, and some of the highest – placed public figures have been prominent in promoting certain gurus and sannyasin causes.

What of the poor then? Why is it that all this money is spent on temples and holy men, instead of on alleviating the misery of India’s millions of destitute and poverty stricken? The Hindu philosophy or outlook on life. is that if one gives to a holy cause, i.e. a, person or place having religious merit, one accrues merit towards a place in heaven or a healthy next life. Thus by the observance of this very fixed rule, the big temples and their  priests get richer, and well known gurus and spiritual teachers build bigger for themselves and their followers. If one gives to the poor or destitute, the gift is of limited merit! One can feed pundits and leave some scraps for the poor. One can build temples and Sanskrit colleges, leaving a few books for some local orphanage. Anything else does not result in the rewards of a wonderful after life!

After spending time in a number of small dwellings attached to little village temples, I still felt restless and undecided on the question of where to settle. My life had become a blur of places, people and events, and I was truly beginning^, to tire of wandering around India. I got to the stage where I decided to stop and stay where I was, which happened to be in a village some fifty miles east of Baroda. On the outskirts of a small village in some temple grounds I had found a dilapidated hut, which was adjacent to a tiny, hardly used temple. I spent a few days as the guest of a friendly goldsmith in a nearby village.

That afternoon two men arrived to see me. They had traveled some ten miles by track, from an isolated village in an area inhabited mainly by farmers of a tribal caste. They had been sent as “envoys” to request me to come and stay in their village, which had on its outskirts a nice plot of temple land on a hill. There was a large “room” there built of mud and bricks, for the use of any sadhu who wished to stop off at ^–the village. They said it was an ideal spot for me to stay and I would find the outlook and tranquility most congenial. They also told me that their village was the center for a dozen surrounding satellite hamlets, and it possessed a school, a dispensary, and rudimentary shops. It also had a daily bus service (over dirt roads) to a main road, railway line, and a small town some seven miles away.

I discovered that the two men were emissaries for the group of upper caste Hindus who lived and worked in their village. This group was somewhat isolated amongst the non-vegetarian tribal castes who populated the area, lived in thatch huts and worshipped nature spirits rather than Hindu gods. Hearing somehow of my search for a place to stay, had sent me an invitation to visit them. They were also promising to look after my basic food and other needs if I decided to reside in their village.

My goldsmith host and some of his neighbors had told me that ^–the area to which I had been invited was inhabited by semi savage people who were only on the fringe of Hinduism. Most of them neither worshipped the Hindu gods, nor were interested in sadhus and holy men. My host tried to put me off going there. However, it felt to me that destiny was calling and I made arrangements to move to the village, which was called Kanod, later that week.

As it was the rainy season and the bus to Kanod was often suspended due to flooded roads, I had to make sure first that the way by road would be feasible. Otherwise I would take the very muddy track route. It turned out that when the same two men from Kanod, (both farmers of the Rajput or warrior caste), came to collect me on the chosen day the bus route was open. Although Kanod was ten miles by track, taking the bus meant a trip of thirty miles and changing buses three times. However, it was much -easier this way than by going on foot and crossing the innumerable muddy gullies which had become streams in the wet season.