Mother Theresa's Calcutta

Calcutta Cab

The metal workings of the doors are exposed. The plastic red seat covering is tightly stretched across the length of the back seat; dirty foam pokes out from burst slits. There are no seatbelts.  There is no radio - the noise of Calcutta blaring in through the windows is music enough though.

Klara (one of the crew) and I, clutching flowers for Mother Theresa’s grave, are in the backseat of a yellow sticky-hot taxi; a taxi, so ancient looking, I’m sure has been making its coin since the colonial era.

Sights and Sounds of the City

We are mostly quiet during the cab ride through Calcutta. The sights, sounds and smells of the city have me spellbound and speechless. Dogs are fornicating on the sidewalk. Children are showering from street pipes. I saw one man shampoo his hair from a water hydrant; the foamy water spilling into the street, streaming through mounds of mottled garbage on the sidewalk. Men are sleeping with their livelihoods by their side. A mix of modern buildings and makeshift shacks line the roads. Live chickens ride the streets in the baskets of bicycles.

Some cows merely mill around and get hooted at, while others are hard at work bearing large loads and getting jabbed with sticks by their owners. Smartly dressed men and women on tuk-tuks weave through the chaos, as do cars, bicycles, cattle, dogs, buses, street hawkers, beggars, and children in pressed uniforms on their way to school.

Money for Milk Formula

When we find the Mother Theresa Center and leave the taxi we are instantly accosted by a woman with a baby slung on her side. ‘Milk for my baby,’ she pleads.

We follow her for a good 15 minutes, passing many places we were could’ve bought milk formula. When we protest saying it is too far in the wrong direction, she becomes very dramatic, gesturing with choice words like ‘husband’, ‘hungry’ and ‘milk’. So we follow her to her preferred street stall. There the stall owner, who I’m now certain was in cahoots with her, produces a large can of expensive milk formula. Klara and I work out the price in dirhams and are shocked. Obviously inflated, the price was too much and we start to walk away. Protesting loudly, she conveniently produces a smaller and more reasonably priced can of baby formula. We purchase it for her.

A little boy appears from nowhere and seems to be the woman’s other child. We give him one of the children’s books we have. (We brought some gifts with us for the orphanage.) He takes it, but with more enthusiasm points to the sweets in the stall. We end up buying the milk for the mother, giving the child books, pencils and buying him sweets, crisps and coke.

We eventually assert that we have to leave and set off to try and navigate our way back to the orphanage. I have no doubt that the stall man placed the formula back on the shelf and split the money with the woman. The woman too probably trailed behind us back to the orphanage, ready to scout for another set tourists to trick.

Mother Theresa’s Grave

At the Mother Theresa Center we are welcomed by the nuns. We take of our shoes at the humble entrance and walk through the courtyard to the museum. Mother Theresa’s meticulous diaries and log books, photos and other memorabilia are on display in glass cabinets and pinned to boards. Only a few tourists are there with us in the small museum. We walk upstairs to see the where the woman - well-known throughout the world and a hero and saint in history – slept. Her room is basic and belongings sparse. The small room is barred and left exactly as it was when she died.

There is a small mass in service which we are careful not to interupt. We put flowers on her grave and statue. The diminutive statue further impresses upon me how remarkable it is that one humble woman can change the lives of so many and create such following for humanity. She truly is an example of human potential at its greatness and most generous.

For such a humanitarian icon, and treasured figure, I suppose I expected a glorified, elaborate tribute to her life. The Mother Theresa Center though - the museum, the tomb, the chapel and orphanage is very basic. Perhaps, just as Mother Theresa was so self-less, the nuns that succeed her now, too, use the donations self-lessly - serving the people rather than upkept or extravagance.

The Orphanage

At the center's orphange we are led to a room that, though not particularly large, is filled with cots and sleeping and crying babies. Sisters are dotted around the nursery attending to them. We are left to walk around and I worry this is to the displeasure of the sisters, who already have a lot on their hands. We later find out though, from two British volunteers here, that the orphanage relies heavily on donations of money and goods from tourists like us. I hoped our gifts of books and pencils would be adequate. Soap, linen and towels though may have been more helpful.

At one cot I am struck rigid by a sight that has haunted me ever since. Lying in the cot was a little Indian baby that could only have been a few weeks old. With a pink beanie on its head it lay sleeping; so peaceful, completely unaffected by the noise around. I struggle to digest the sad truth that confronts me. Both the baby’s arms are in casts. And the baby’s legs, both broken too, also lie stretched out in little casts. How does a baby break all its limbs?

It takes me a while to move from the crib, and still now the memory of that baby shakes my emotions. What a start to life for such a little soul; parentless, with a broken body.

We give the books and colouring pencils we had brought with us to the older children. We sit, and play with them for some time. They are bubbly, loud and pass around our books inquisitively. This gives me hope for the little baby in the crib.

We meet a mother and her daughter from the UK who are volunteering at the orphanage and have rented an apartment nearby. They tell us about the volunteering program and how people come from all over the world to help out.




This trip was both humbling and inspiring. I feel very lucky to have had the opportunity to see where Mother Theresa lived and worked. It was also moving to see ordinary people like the pair from the UK choosing to work in the slums of Calcutta to better the lives of the most needy.

  


(Trip from Aug 08)

Soul Searching in India

View from the roof of the Institute

In November of 2010 a small ad in an email newsletter caught my attention;
"Louise Hay 'You Can Heal Your Life' First Course in Meditation and Tibetan Buddhism." 

Having read Louise Hay's book, about how positive affirmations can change your life, and having casually attended a few meditation classes in Dubai, I was curious and clicked through.
The eight day retreat was to take place in the Sherabling Monastery Palpung, Himachal Province, India. I didn't know much about Buddhism or even India, but I felt this was a retreat I had to attend. Without thinking too much, I signed up.
When people asked about my impending trip I focused on the yoga, meditation, feel-good aspects, and kept the Tibetan Buddhism quietly to myself. What did I know about Buddhism? Not a lot.
The retreat did reveal itself as a feel-good, meditation break, but in the very aspect I was unsure about, the retreat became so much more. Through the teaching sessions with the Tibetan master my curiosity about life and the universe strengthened in strides, and I finished the week feeling a seismic shift in my perceptions had transpired. While I hadn't set out to seek a spiritual experience, I feel lucky that in a way, one found me.

Reaching Palpung

When things start to go wrong I often get superstitious, taking everything as a sign of trouble to come or that something just '
not meant to be. In the lead up to the retreat lots of things did go wrong, but they had worked themselves right; the retreat which was initially full, had a place for me; the flight to Delhi that was overbooked, had a standby seat for me; I missed my pick-up at the airport, but made a new friend, Christian.
Proudly of the Christian faith, my taxi driver introduced himself as 'Christian', showed me a photo of his daughter, 'Christina' and told me goes to church every Sunday. I shared my rice crackers with him, he showed me his house and bought me a banana. For two hours, through broken English and bumps in the road, he told me about his country. 
Despite the difficulties getting there, when Christian pulled up to the Sherabling Monastery my worries were quelled and I knew that this was exactly where I was meant to be.

At the foothills of the Himalayas, the monastery had the most amazing mountainous view as its backdrop and, set high in up hills, all I could see in the valley below was green, thick green jungle. The terrain here was dense with trees and largely unpopulated; we were warned on the first day to watch out for leopards. Leopards are spotted from time to time in Palpung, but it would be uncommon for the shy cats to venture to so close to humans. How exciting though!

Paragliding in Palpung

On that first afternoon, enjoying the sun outdoors and recovering from the two hour bumpy drive, one of the group's members pointed out in the distance colourful para-glides gently gravitating over the neighbouring ranges. It was only a few days later I was there myself, gravitating to earth from a giddy 2400 metres. I had only intended to tag along for the view and said I'd make my mind up about the para-gliding at the top. But after a stomach-churning, hair-raising two hour drive along the mountain's edge, along a winding narrow (apparently two lane!) dirt road, I decided I'd rather jump than risk going back down.

Paragliding in Palpung



This part of my trip was monumental for me, not only because I faced my fear of heights but because I decided then, on that hill to take a literal leap of faith in life, in all that I do, always. And, after that conversation with myself, I jumped. It was terrifying. I was gripping on so tight! We were whisked into the wind and pulled high into the sky. My feet had never felt so electric. But once we had descended a bit, I could really take in the view; the beautiful day, the mountain ranges, I could even see the monastery. It was magical, and since then, still now, I feel a little more alive.

The Hay House Retreat
On the first evening's 'get together' we watched the Louise Hay Movie, 'You Can Heal Your Life'. Having read the book and being a firm believer in the power of positive thought, I watched the movie with zeal. Hay House Publishing India, who organised the seven day retreat had kindly given all of us 50 delegates, our own copy of Louise Hay's book and a pack of her affirmation cards. Those goodies, came together with some Tibetan incense and our own Tibetan thangka (an embroidery scroll usually, and true in my case, depicting a Buddhist deity.
It was not only the goody-basket left for us that impressed me, I was thrilled when I saw my room. I had a large room with wooden floors, high ceilings, two immaculately prepared single beds, a desk, an en-suite bathroom, a lovely large key to lock my room and it was so clean! Another group member humorously re-named the monastery, 'The Palpung Hilton.'

The itinerary of the week consisted of breakfast, a morning meditation, a teaching session, lunch, an afternoon meditation, an afternoon teaching session, free time, dinner and a Tibetan movie. The food was all vegetarian - although there were eggs at breakfast and this sparked some debate. With traditional Indian and Tibetan dishes meal time was both a time for eating and education, and despite being a typically fussy eater, I thoroughly enjoyed all the food.

The Sherabling Monastery Institute

The Sherabling Monastery

The monastery's accommodation was run almost entirely by monks. The boys and men in maroon red robes ran the kitchen, the cafe downstairs, the Internet room (yes there was even an Internet room), the gift shop and the reception. The monastery itself was just a short walk through a gully and across a wooden bridge, where on one morning I saw a family of monkeys preening each other near the path.
On the other side of the gully stood the Sherabling Monestary - grand and colourful and housing hundreds of children. We were privileged to be guests to their 'Environmental Day' and were entertained with performances, songs and skits - depicting how to look after our world.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1ixA8-ZUuk
(quality of filming is not good, sorry!)

My impression of Tibetan traditional music is that much of it is soft, slow and simple; backed by low beats of a drum and often accompanied by chanting or gentle singing. Many of the Tibetan performances lulled me into a reflective trance and the few Indian performances, with the feverish dancing and brassy beats brought me right back. Once their presentation was over, with over-sized green rubber gloves and rubber shoes they took to the hall, clearing up the cups of po cha tea and buckets of biscuits.

The Lama Dance
The last couple of days timed in with the Lama Dance. We were allowed to walk over to the monastery and watch the monks practising the dances without masks in the days prior, and on the day of the Lama dance we spent most of the day in the monastic hall watching the Tibetan Buddhist festivities unravel.


The Lama Dance day performances



The monks here were costumed in fine silk dresses and donned ornate, and somewhat frightening masks. Tibetans from all over attended the event. Families with children brought blankets and pillows to sit on and some of the elderly had walked in with little seats tied to their bags. The older Tibetan women wore conservative wrap dresses with colourful striped aprons and all that entered the arena paid their respects with prostrations before finding a seat.

Young monks and nuns, locals, the 50 of us on the retreat, the resident foreigners at the monastery and quite a number who were visiting just for the event filled up the hall.



The day-long dancing gave us all the chance to hear the traditional Tibetan instruments at play, see the decorative costumes and masks, and experience the alternating lively and meditative chants that accompanied the ceremony and offerings to Buddha. For someone like me, who feels so far removed from history, religion and culture in my everyday life, it was both humbling and invigorating to see that there are still pockets on our planet where traditional culture is still going strong.

Meditating with the 12th Kenting Tai Situpa



I had only been to a few guided meditations in Dubai and, after reading 'Eat Pray Love' and the difficulties Elizabeth Gilbert faced, I was apprehensive about the meditation sessions of the retreat. My trepidation was unfounded though as I soon discovered. Our meditation sessions were held in the teaching room of the monastery's institute. At the front of the large room, on a stage and then on a raised platform with steps, was the seat of the 12th Kenting Tai Situpa. Below, cross-legged on the wooden floor sat the 50 of us.

The Tai Situpa told us there were many rituals in Tibetan culture, and our teaching and meditations sessions weren't spared any ceremony. Five minutes before His Holiness was due to arrive each day we stood up and waited. Two young monks stood by the doorway and waited too. When they could spot his procession they sounded their horns continuously until His Holiness had reached his podium and looked at them. There were opening and closing prayers for all our sessions and also items that needed to be blessed by His Holiness before the sessions could start.

"The 12th Kenting Tai Situpa...was born in the male wood-horse year (1954)...to a family of farmers. On the day of his birth, the entire region witnessed two solar orbs illuminating the sky. The details of his birth were completely in accordance with the prediction of the 16th Gyalwa Karmapa. He was taken to Palpung monastery and at eighteen months was enthroned there by the 16th Gyalwa Karmapa...At that time it was acknowledged that he clearly recognized his old attendants and disciples." (Extract from http://www.palpung.org/english/taisitupa/biography.asp)

Tibetan Buddhist Teachings

The Tai Situpa taught us basic breathing meditations and during the teaching sessions gave us, as he said, a brief understanding of Buddhism and what it means to be a Buddhist. This was fascinating! Starting with Prince Dak, moving to dreams, incarnations, the prophesied future, karma, our own primordial wisdom, how to live the Buddha way and, at the end of the week, our own private meeting with His Holiness, was a literal life-changing experience. I sat in amazement everyday and could feel almost immediately, the stirrings of spirituality shift within me. The principles of Buddhism made complete sense to me; the idea of calming one's mind, living simply, and respecting 'all sentient beings', for me - the passive vegetarian, resonated deeply.

Saying Goodbye to Sherabling

I felt such a sense of respect developing for the Tibetan people, their religion and customs, that it was profoundly disturbing watching some of the nightly movies. The 'cultural revolution' atrocities and the state of the Lhasa now - the once revered religious capital, were saddening to accept. Knowing more about their lost country and painful plight though has only strengthened my admiration for the Tibetan people.

Sunset over Himachal Province

My immersion into Tibetan culture, albeit in India, was a week I will never forget and one that in subtle and still unseen ways I know has steered me in new directions.

It was definitely a retreat I was meant to take and one I feel I will still be learning from in many years to come.

Links:

Here is the link to some amazing articles about India:
http://soulofindia.com/pages/writing.html

The link to the official Palpung Sherabling Monastic Seat website:
http://www.palpung.org/english/news/brief.asp

The Hay House India event facebook page:
http://www.facebook.com/hayhouseindia#!/event.php?eid=138714349489512&index=1



(Trip from Nov 2010)