Days 9-11, Aug. 18-20

During my time at the Ashram, my time was strictly allotted. There was no time to even keep a diary. I could have, of course; but I chose to keep to the discipline of the Ashram as closely as possible. In return I had a wonderful experience. I went in with a need to find out what I would do with my future. That question, with which I had been struggling, went unanswered. Instead, I left with a joy that God was with me and would use me as He saw fit.
The presence of God was for me (and, I think is supposed to be) the essence of the Ashram experience. The day is highly structured. We rise at 4:30 am. Morning prayer, Mass, and breakfast follow. There is personal meditation and community prayer and a discourse before lunch. The afternoon includes meditation, a major lecture, and community prayer. There supper is more individual. Community prayer closes the day at about nine o’clock; and then it is time for bed. Yoga was an option for the afternoon; but I skipped that opportunity as I quickly realized the exercises were beyond my ability level.
The instruction was not. I had no trouble grasping the concepts. As Fr. Louis told me upon arrival, he would give a recap of the previous week of instruction to the novices. By the time he was finished, I was right in step with the group. H also explained that the founder started the Ashram as a way of implementing Vatican II and a new evangelization in India. There had been little or no connection between Catholic and Hindu before. Yet, there was a spiritual richness which could serve s a link between us that promised closer ties and greater understanding. The Ashram would serve to find the connection, build on it and make it known.
The first two days there was complete silence. Meals and all gatherings took place without use of chairs. Instead, all sat on the floor n the lotus position. All, that is, but me. Without asking, I was gifted from my first session with a little stool. I felt awkward. However, that was better than feeling the pain in my knees. At dinner, plates and cups (both shiny metal) wee placed on the ground. One marched single file to a place and sat on the ground. About nine of the forty or so participants served. They would have to bow and bend to place the item on your plate. The drink was hot water. The portions were more than ample. I some food were left over it would be distributed so nothing went uneaten. I always had to signal off my second spoonful of rice (the basis of every meal including breakfast). It was too much for me. Neither I nor anyone left even a speck on our plates.
By the end of the second day I tired of being treated like a baby needing a stool. Instead, I placed my body carefully and uncomfortably on the floor trying my best to keep my legs out of the way. My gesture was noticed. Fr. Louis at the next Mass made a public statement about it and invited me to light the ceremonial Mass candles at the start of the Liturgy. I had noticed how the women at the previous Masses had done it. I did need to be cued as to go clockwise or counter around the circle. As a concelebrant I was given a saffron shawl-like vestment to wear and I did have a speaking part in the Eucharistic Prayer. The Liturgy was specially approved for use in India. I am led to believe it is only used at the Ashram. It is beautiful.
On the third day, the last for most of the novices, silence was relaxed. I was surprised to find out how many had figured me out without saying a word. They leaned my eating habits and personality. I was astounded. I was more astounded by how much praying and living together bonded us.
That afternoon the novice directors had planned to take a shot journey to the top of the mountain that overlooks the Ashram. It is the site of a noteworthy ancient temple that is still in use. It was a five minute ride by bus. There are two buses in town: one with A/C for 10 rps; the other without for 4rps. As a sign o poverty the directors had us wait for the less expensive. The wait made us arrive just after the temple closed for lunch. We had time to wait. I should tell you during the wait for the bus and all during the wait on the mountain (in a little commercial and dirty town) the novices flocked me asking all sorts of questions. I enjoyed it (who wouldn’t). At one time, I left the group for about five minutes to see if there were a better (cleaner and shadier) place to wait the hour. When I returned, the sisters were gone. I soon found them and received a benign scolding from the mistress of novices. This cemented the bonding I had enjoyed with the young sisters.
We took the brief tour of the temple dedicated to Gnassei, the elephant-headed goddess who saved the area from an evil god. Then our novice mistresses bought everyone a cup of ice cream and decided to have us walk down the mountain. That was a very big mistake. As we descended by means of a 300 step staircase (each riser about one foot down) it started to rain. The young women each had brought umbrellas to keep them from the hot sun. I got drenched. (Sounds like a parable about five wise virgins, doesn’t it?) When we got to the bottom, we should have been about ten minutes from the Ashram. I was among the very last to reach the bottom because of the conversations I was enjoying with the novices. Those ahead of us seemed to know the way. Presumably (wrong!) the mistresses were in charge. We were just following dutifully. Half an hour later I notice the mountain is far behind us. We had gone in the wrong direction. Now we were approaching rush hour in a congested area with no sidewalks to protect us from the rush hour traffic. My paternal instincts immediately arose and I started trying to take charge. Unfortunately, the front of the procession was far head. So, I became protective of all around me, especially the older mistress of novices who seemed to have trouble crossing the streets with its chaotic traffic. About five miles later, the back of the line came in to the Ashram. All were accounted for. I now have a verbal invitation to the first profession of my new friends (and soon to be sisters) next April. I’d better not lose their address.