ADVENTURING OUTSIDE THE ASHRAM

Inside the Ashram, the grounds were meticulously cared for, virtually every millimeter of the beautiful gardens had attention and focus, and seemed to radiate a beautiful energy. Dotted amongst the gardens were colorful statues of saints and legendary characters from the scriptures. There was a huge freestanding hall where ceremonies were held, and there was a cafe where you could meet friends for a chai and sharing of experiences or just sit happily alone soaking up the 'vibes'.

I was able to meditate in the cave where Baba had done a lot of his meditation in the early days. I would go in and sit down to meditate in what felt like intense energy. I would instantly disappear into 'no thing but 'everything' only to 'reappear' about three hours later. 

Outside the Ashram is rich in tradition, incredible landforms, and legendary mountains, while nearby hot springs bubbled up from the Earth. In the small town of Ganeshpuri there was Baba's Guru Nityananda's Ashram and Samadhi shrine where he is buried.

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One day, after visiting Nityananda's Samadhi shrine, a sense of adventure welled up, and I set out for an exploratory walk, getting further away from the Ashram. I passed various small ' baths' where locals bathed in the hot springs, a Hanuman temple devoted to the Monkey God, where the monks with long, long dreadlocks hung out smoking. I ventured further and came across a small hut. Sitting inside was a white-haired sadhu with a long flowing beard smoking a chillum, who saw me and beckoned me over.

I was taken completely by surprise, as with a perfectly cultured English accent, he introduced himself. I sat with him as he shared how he had been in the British Navy during the war, and his most recent adventure had been helping organize The Rolling Stones' concert in Bombay.

Here in the middle of nowhere, we sat sharing experiences and philosophies and, of course, good humor and jokes, as we delved into the concept of 'everything and nothing'. It was almost dark, and I had to head back for the evening chant. Standing up, I realized just how much hash we had smoked and wobbled off back to the Ashram. With each step, I began to think what Baba would say if he knew I'd run away for a couple of hours and got stoned.
I arrived  outside of the Ashram, and who should pop out about 10 meters in front of me but Baba walking directly towards me,

I melted, my legs got even wobblier, and I prayed to shrink and be swallowed up by the Earth. It didn't work,

I had to keep heading for a direct face-to-face meeting, when with just the most subtle hint of a smile, Baba abruptly turned and disappeared into the ashram. My chanting felt particularly blissful that night as I was flooded with relief.

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The accommodation in the Ashram was very basic, and we started sharing in a large dorm but were soon transferred to a small room where we were able to enjoy a small degree of privacy. Food was always simple and delicious, cooked in giant pots, frequently 'taste tested' by Baba, who supervised the cooking. We would sit in rows on the floor and be served from buckets of steaming, delicious vegetarian dishes.

    

Shane and I decided to get a train into Bombay to sample a famous Indian restaurant and treat ourselves to a nice hotel bed.

Looking out at the passing countryside, it was apparent it was time for the morning ablutions, and the scenery was dotted with locals doing their 'jobs' and relieving themselves. The restaurant was fabulous, we ordered Thali’s, a large plate of assorted dishes all equally delicious and very 'moreish', you were able to keep selecting from the Thali trolley, we certainly did and had the 'endless meal'.

I started settling down on the comfy bed for a blissful sleep, when the rumblings started, and I spent more time in the toilet than in bed.

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Traveling around the area in the local bus was a treat, sitting up the back there was always a simple brass band who had learned that I had been called Govinda, and as I boarded the bus they always broke into their rousing rendition of the chant “Govinda Jaya Jaya’ which was always a source of great mirth, delight and happiness for me, and them.

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The monsoon arrived, and it was time to leave

Farewelling Baba, he gave both of us a hug and that incredible look into the eyes giving another glimpse of what felt like infinity.

David and I had bought Tamburas, the large instrument shaped like a sitar used to set a drone for chanting. We tied them on the roof of the cab like surfboards and headed off into the rain...the taxi driver would stop every mile or two and rub a cut potato across the windscreen to divert the rain...and to save his battery by not using the wipers!