About ten years ago, when I still lived in Portland, I wistfully imagined life at Ananda Village as one of simplicity and ease, where the stresses of ordinary life ceased to be. A year later I got to know people here a little better, and once met a teacher walking from Hansa Temple to the Expanding Light, holding a box of Cheerios. Seeing my inquisitive gaze, he took out a handful and cheerfully said “lunch!”

Our lifestyle here is one of intense service and activity, balanced of course by meditation. Many of our jobs can’t compare with the stress level of trading on Wall Street, but are nonetheless challenging in countless regards. Our own family life with a three year old can often complicates things further, and offers us daily choices of how to respond.

Bad days happen to everyone, but how do bad days look to people on the spiritual path? My own experiences growing up led me to believe that the only way to respond in such times is to vent, to be miserable about everything. Perhaps you have seen a bumper sticker: “If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention!”

The fact is, we all have a small part deep within ourselves that first asks “how should I be about this?” It is that tiny voice, sometimes buried deep within and overpowered by our immediate reactions, that is the key to our choice of reality.

Many years ago at a summer camp I worked with a woman who smiled all the time. I soon realized that her smiles were not genuine - she confessed to being trained to “put on a happy face” despite a conflicting internal consciousness.

I am eternally grateful for the people here at Ananda whose outward appearance can genuinely match their internal reality. Does it mean that everyone is happy all the time? I remember my first meeting with an Ananda minister, when I asked “are you in bliss all the time?” He smiled ever so gently, and honestly replied “not yet”.

In a way, our spiritual progress is measured primarily not by overcoming huge “karmic bombs”, but by the daily barrage of tests that give us the opportunity to hold on dearly to God’s living presence in our lives, to raise our consciousness and energy to accept the realities of life all around us.

I laughingly remember my first “test” of holding on to bliss. I was very new on the Path, and was diving deep in meditation, and was so sure that I could maintain my consciousness that I must have put out a challenge to Divine Mother. That night I went to the laundromat, and to my horror after opening the washer, could not find 3 of my favorite socks. I checked everywhere for my beloved socks, but they were irretrievably gone. I returned home, heartbroken. So much for my first test. Socks.

Sister Gyanamata, the most advanced woman disciple of Yogananda, when faced with a huge oncoming test replied: “Lord, change no circumstance in my life, CHANGE ME!” May we all be granted the wisdom to respond with such strength and grace to the mounting challenges of life on earth.

I’ll leave you with a recording of Swami Kriyananda singing “The Non Blues”, which is it perfect song for how we can choose to look at the world. Most poignant to me are these lyrics:

Now it ain’t that I don’t know what grief is:
This ol’ heart has had it’s full share.
But grief’s one thing, and complainin’ another,
Why multiply grief with despair?

My wife Sadhana Devi’s first impression of India was of her ride from the Delhi airport to our ashram in the suburb of Gurgaon. This was before the new expressway was built, with the road still narrow, bumpy and chaotic. It was late at night, and I was escorting her through four lanes of interweaving bumper-to-bumper traffic moving at a snail’s pace.
“Traffic’s bad tonight,” I thought. After a mile or two of intense congestion we saw the approaching headlights of a car coming toward us in our center lane, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was going the “wrong” way. He had probably missed his exit and was going back by the shortest route. Traffic parted and flowed around him as he proceeded nonchalantly to his destination.That driver, marching to his own tune, was a great illustration to Sadhana Devi of the two sides of India. On the one hand, you have someone willing to go against the tide, unhindered by mere conventions and rules, doing whatever it takes to achieve his goal. Or, if you choose, she could have seen him as an example of someone so self-absorbed in his personal needs that he was totally oblivious to the needs of others and his impact upon them. Which was it? Maybe both. Or, maybe he was just a lousy driver.

When I first moved to Pune last October, I needed some way to get me around the city and decided, against the advice ofa few, to buy a motorcycle. I had owned two-wheelers before but that was many years ago, so I knew my skills would be rusty and not on par with those around me. Yet, the practicality of driving a motorbike outweighed my concerns and, to be honest, it seemed like a whole lot of fun to be zipping around town like the young kids. Yogananda said, “The mind follows the heart,” and I think this was a good example of that.

I bought a small 100cc Hero Honda, the most common model in India. You see millions of these on the road, so I figured they must be reliable. Brand new, it cost about $800 and I haven’t regretted it yet. It gets great mileage (100+/gallon), can be parked most anywhere and is peppy enough for my needs. That said, I must say that riding a motorcycle in Indian traffic is seriously dangerous, but it’s a great way to blend in and feel a part of the scene. It’s a terrific education too, so I thought I’d share a few observations and lessons.

1. Expect the unexpected

A driver in India should never allow himself to say, “I never thought he’d do that!” If it’s possible, expect it! Americans drive by the rules; Indians don’t. Just like the fellow going the wrong way didn’t invite undue concern, you can expect behavior of any and all kinds: indifference to traffic signals, turns from wrong lanes, passing on blind curves, murderous road conditions, buffalos/cows/camels/goats, and suicidal pedestrians. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, you’ll be surprised. In America, you can drive and have your mind elsewhere. Not here. You must be 100% alert at all times.

2. Indians are programmed to get ahead

I was riding with an Indian friend when he commented as a car passed us, “An Indian driver has to get ahead of the car in front of him. You see, we Indians are a competitive people and you see it in our driving. It’s our strength and our curse. Wherever we go in this world, we have to get ahead of the next fellow. It drives us to success but at the same time, it makes it difficult for us to cooperate with one another.”

When riding my bike, I inevitably find myself going faster and faster as I weave in and out of traffic, trying to get ahead of the next fellow just like everyone else. I get caught up in the competitive spirit and must constantly remind myself that there are at least a quarter million young men in Pune between the ages of 16 and 25 fully capable of winning motocross races in America. There is absolutely no way I should let myself get caught up in that. Slow down! Take it nice and easy! Relax and enjoy!

3. Space is measured differently here

In America, personal space between people is not the same as in India. Americans keep a greater physical distance between themselves and others and feel uncomfortable when someone “invades” their space. Here, people stand close and the same goes for cars. In America, clearance between vehicles is measured in feet. Here, it’s measured in inches. It’s a bit disconcerting to have someone pass you by at high speed with only inches to spare. In the West, this would elicit a nasty reaction but here, it’s normal. Maybe it’s because space in India is at a premium and the population is high. Highways marked for two lanes soon become three or four, with a total disregard for lanes. Cars squeeze into the tiniest of openings and you soon understand the utility of a motorcycle.

4. Know when to yield.

Indian culture is hierarchical. It’s the same for driving. You yield to tonnage, or else! The car yields to the truck or bus. The motorcycle yields to the car. The pedestrian yields to the bike. Everyone yields to the cow or buffalo. While driving on a two-lane road, a car coming in my direction will pass another and bear down on me in my lane. No problem. I’m expected to move to the far edge of my lane since I’m only driving a motorcycle. I understand that the on-coming cars will allow me enough space to slip by. Usually. The attitude is, “There’s enough space for all of us to get by, so why waste it?” This is why you’ll see cars passing on blind curves. Indians don’t waste things like Americans do, whether resources or space. Roads can usually accommodate three vehicles in a pinch, so what’s the problem. If there’s enough space for a third car to pass a second car passing a first one while still leaving room for me, I expect it.

5. Don’t wait for someone to be nice to you.

American drivers, by and large (Boston excepted), are polite. We are taught to yield to on-coming traffic, to defer to pedestrians, to give the right-of-way to those who possess it, to think in terms of the best interest of all. It’s so civilized by comparison and reflects a community spirit. Not so in India. Here, you never yield space if you can help it. You take it. To defer and yield will turn a ten-minute errand into an hour-long journey of frustration. If you leave a safe space between your car and the one ahead, it will be filled again and again. If you wait for someone to let you into traffic, you’ll be on the sidelines for a long time. It simply won’t happen and it can be dangerous. You have to ease in and force others to accommodate to you. But don’t feel bad, it’s expected. Life off the highway is much like this too.

6. Indians are great drivers.

Typically, one’s first reaction to traffic in India is, “These people are crazy! What terrible drivers.” Actually, I’ve come to see it as just the opposite. If you can drive in India, you can drive anywhere. You have to be a good driver simply to survive. We mistakenly equate ability with following rules. In that sense, Indians are terrible, but if we measure ability in terms of successfully navigating a ton of metal through impossible conditions, you gain a healthy regard for the Indian driver. He and she are among the best.

Unfortunately, also plying the highways are road warriors fresh from the village with absolutely no experience behind the wheel. By the time they become halfway competent, another million will have taken their place.

7. Merging—learn to flow.

Although I said Indians don’t drive by rules, there are “unspoken rules”. Traffic flows and you have to move with it, kind of like dancing. Once you get into the flow, you glide along in a natural way whereas the beginner is stiff and moves jerkily. That’s when you get into trouble. As for rearview mirrors and looking first, forget about it.

8. The horn is your friend.

Newcomers get a kick out of the signs on the back of trucks that say, “Horn Please.” But it’s true. Truckers appreciate you giving a honk before passing. Arati said that when she first learned to drive, her instructor began Lesson One with instructions on “How to use your horn.” Brakes can be done away with, along with mirrors and other unneeded accessories, but when your horn is on the blink, you have to fix it. Typically, when you are about to pass someone closely or on a blind curve you honk as a warning to anyone approaching and to the person you are passing. It’s a self-preservative courtesy. Americans, on the other hand, get all hot and bothered when someone honks at them because it’s considered aggressive.

9. Road hazards

In my opinion, this is the worst and most dangerous thing about driving here. The roads here haphazardly constructed and maintained. I just can’t, for the life of me, figure out why road crews invariably leave a mess behind themselves when doing repairs. The job is never taken to 100% completion. There is always a pile of bricks, blocks or debris left behind on the roadway. Last week I saw an unmarked and unprotected crater in a major intersection, about the size of a man-hole. I’m sure it’s still there, waiting for someone to fall in to be seriously injured or worse. Sometimes I’ll be driving along and “Wham!” I’ll hit a speed bump without warning. Awhile back, we saw a biker hit a water buffalo. The driver bounced off and hit the asphalt hard while the buffalo looked completely unfazed. I was driving along recently and skidded to a stop to avoid going into a trench that a crew of fellows were digging across the highway. No signs or flagmen. If a truck breaks down, it stops for repairs right in the middle of his lane instead of pulling over onto the shoulder. He’ll put in the roadway behind his truck a row of bricks or large rocks as a warning. When done, off he goes, leaving the rocks in the roadway to be hit by unwary motorcyclists at night.

10. Police

I’m always on the lookout for the police who work in teams to flag down drivers at intersections. You’ll go around a turn and six of them will jump out to signal for you to pull over. Don’t make eye contact and keep going if you can. If I can’t, that’s when I play “dumb foreigner.” Usually this will cost you about two hundred rupees as they will always manage to find something wrong with me or the vehicle. I see it as a “road tax.”

I pulled into a coffee shop last month and made the mistake of not getting far enough off the road and into the store’s private space. Within five minutes, while enjoying my latte and not paying attention, a police truck with five happy pirates absconded with my bike because I was illegally parked in a spot that was off limits for the day. If there was a sign to say this, I couldn’t find it. I came out to find my bike gone. Now what? The vegetable wallah next to where I had parked told me in sign language that the police had taken it, so I flagged down a rickshaw and asked him to help me out. He knew exactly where to go and off we oomed to a spot where the police trucks waited. I checked and sure enough, there was my bike with a whole bunch of other victims. The pirates had big grins on their faces as they saw a “gora” (white guy) approach. They knew they had hooked a fat one because I had few chips with which to bargain. Six hundred rupees it cost me that time. No paperwork of course. It must be a fun job for those guys.

The interesting thing about living here is that, after awhile, it all seems so very normal. We have the capacity to get used to just about anything. Last summer, upon returning to America, I noticed that I had picked up some Indian driving habits. I could tell because I noticed so many people honking at me. I was blithely cutting others off in traffic, nosing my way into their space, pulling in front and not yielding the right of way as I should. Actually, after living here, I’ve started to feel that Americans are rather “up tight” about a lot of things, rules for example, and let themselves be bothered by things too easily.

Sometime in 2009, Tata will start selling its new, one-lakh Nano automobile. It will be interesting to see what happens. If traffic is bad now, it’s going to be horrendous when the motorcyclists upgrade to cheap cars. You see whole families now—mom, dad and two kids—driving along on their scooters. With people moving into the middle class, there will be an explosion of car buying, just like there was in America many years ago. I can’t see how the roads will handle it, but I’m sure India will somehow muddle along and cope. It always does. This is a resilient country and the people find a way to navigate just about anything. Compared to everything else Indians face, fighting traffic is a minor bother. When the time comes, maybe even I will buy a Nano.

Much joy to everyone.

Jaya

For the past two years, I have had the blessing of living with Swami Kriyananda and many Ananda friends in India, our spiritual homeland. My husband Tim and I moved to the Ananda ashram in New Delhi in October 2006.

This past November we moved to Pune with a few other “pioneering members,” taking up residence in several apartments of one of the new apartment buildings on the edge of town. We were joined a month later by Swami Kriyananda and others, making our total number here twenty.

Swami Kriyananda feels that Pune will be a receptive place to the idea of spiritual community. The population of Pune and the surrounding urban area is just over five million, with approximately half of the population between fifteen and thirty years of age. There is a great amount of young, vibrant energy.

To that end, Ananda decided to purchase twenty-five acres of rural land near the village of Watunde, an hour drive outside Pune. The team in charge of developing the land travels there daily, often working 10-12 hour days, overseeing developing of the land, drawing up plans, and meeting with architects, builders and land agents. Our goal is to create a community.

After arriving in the city, Swami Kriyananda suggested that in addition to creating a rural community, we also focus on building an urban community in the city of Pune in order to reach a broader population. At this time, the project is in the beginning stages, but we have already had several meetings to get the process started. We are trying to define the spiritual needs of the local population, and find the best location.

In the meantime, Swami Kriyananda finished a new edit of his autobiography, The Path, now titled The New Path. He has begun recording the audio version of the book. After that he is planning to record video talks based on his book The Essence of the Bhagavad Gita.

In addition to working toward building communities, we give free inspirational talks four evenings a week, open to the public. One of those, by Swami Kriyananda, takes place in the community room of our apartment complex. His talks are full of enthusiasm. (A link to the one from January 17 is posted at the end of this article).

One of the aspects of Ananda’s work in India includes providing solar/wind hybrid systems to small villages. A recent touching event was when the solar team installed a solar/wind hybrid system on the land where our rural community will be built. The caretaker and his family live in a simple four room building. One cannot properly call it a “house,” as there are no doorways between the four rooms and one must access other rooms by walking outside to a common porch area. There is no running water or electricity. Meals are cooked over an open fire pit in the front of the building. A couple of weeks ago the solar team went to work to remedy this situation. A week later they finished installing a system which allowed the family to have light in their home. This happened on the very evening the rest of the village was shrouded in darkness due to the scheduled weekly power outage! To witness such a basic convenience provided for people who may otherwise live their entire lives without, is a joy.

Living in Pune has been a very different experience for me personally than living in New Delhi. The language (Marathi, not Hindi, is the main language), the weather, and … the noise.

We live in an area of major new construction. New apartment buildings are cropping up all around us. Hammering, drilling and shouting are the order of the day. And at some point every night, the dogs decide to go into their street corner songs. My husband Tim thinks they sound pretty awful, but I think they’re not so bad… I just wish they would confine their vocal exercises to the daytime hours! Alas, they are apparently enamoured with the sounds of their own barking and often have vocal contests with each other throughout the night.

Another difference from New Delhi is the absence of the pedal-driven rickshaws, overabundance of cows roaming the streets and chilly winter days. Instead, there are vast amounts of auto-rickshaws, scooters, motorcycles, and goats. In the middle of January we only need a light blanket for sleeping.

There are other differences as well. For instance, Pune has more schools, colleges and universities than any other city in the world! It is known as the “Oxford of the East,” due to having over one hundred educational institutions, including nine universities. Students come from all over the world to study at the University of Pune.

Pune is also referred to as “The Detroit of India” owing to the many manufacturing companies, particularly automobile giants, having their headquarters  within the city’s metropolitan area.

Pune is rich with historical and spiritual sites. There is no shortage of museums, temples and shrines in this city which has existed since 937 A.D.

All the noise, bustle, educational institutions, temples and landmarks are, however, merely the backdrop to our lives here. Ultimately, what we are here for is to share Yogananda’s work in whatever way we can. LOTS of energy is needed to start a community and offer spiritual teachings to all who wish to know.

So many of us here work behind the scenes in ways that may not be directly connected with developing the land, teaching classes or providing solar electricity, but each one’s seva (selfless service) provides support to the whole in ways beyond measure.

There are the selfless souls who opened the doors of their apartment to make their living area a temple where we have group meditations every morning. Others provide the audio and video recordings of Swami Kriyananda’s talks, and others send out reports and photographs of daily life here, and the announcements of coming events. Decorating the altars, singing in the choir, playing devotional chants for our guests… all of these divine services provide the support that helps keep our energy upward and onward.

And then there are all our friends from around India and the world who send us prayers and love every day, that we may have the energy to keep up with Swami Kriyananda who, despite his almost 83 years, can still run circles around all of us with his energy and enthusiasm!

Listen to Swami Kriyananda’s talk, “The Essence of Religion.”
Pune, India, January 17, 2009. 72 minutes.

The past month has held many many wonderful musical events: The two school concerts (including the High School’s breathtaking presentation of Handel’s Messiah), World Brotherhood Day, our Ananda Christmas Concert (when my baton flew in a 30 foot graceful arc while conducting the Halleluiah Chorus), our Christmas Sunday Service, our Christmas Eve crèche program, and then Master’s Birthday celebration.

With all the wonderful events behind us, our choir began its first steps in recording the first of many CDs to come. Our usual emphasis is on performing, so this will be a new direction for the choir.

We spent the entire 90 minute session on one song (not unusual for an amateur group such as ourselves), focusing anew on diction, blend, and intonation. One of the things that came very easily, however, was the presentation of Swami’s inspiration, which I’m hoping you can sense from the MP3 below. We might be a choir of untrained voices, but I haven’t found a choir that can present inspiration with such ease and power.

The vibration of the music stayed with me the entire night, and Wednesday morning dawned with a renewed sense of love and peace in my heart, which I’m sure came from the immersion into the song “Life Is a Dream” (click on the player below to listen).

I’ll keep posting the songs as we do them, to keep you abreast of our progress!