Journey to Ramanasramam: From Crisis To Renewal

Third in a four part account of a trip to Ramanasramam, making my way across South India from the Tibetan settlement of Bylakuppe two hours west of Mysore in the state of Karnataka, to the city of Chennai on the east coast of Tamil Nadu before heading down the next day to the pilgrimage town of Tiruvannamalai.

Breakfast on my second day was the first meal I had taken in the ashram dining hall. Instead of doing the sensible thing and sitting at one of the wooden tables available to those whose knees were not that bendy, I went and sat on the hard granite floor. Pure ego made me do this because I wanted to look and feel like all the other ashram inmates, or at least the vast majority of them, despite the fact that as far as sitting with my legs crossed is concerned, my knees are completely and utterly shot to pieces and have been for years. Somewhat inevitably I was unable to cross my legs, only tuck them under my meditation stool which I had brought with me and the pain from doing that was intense, very bad indeed. I had to contort myself into a very strange position, the only one which enabled me to pick up my food from the banana leaf and put it in my mouth without spilling the whole damn lot over my clothes. This contortion of my body meant having to seriously twist my stomach, something which I knew was not going to be good for my digestion, not good at all. Under considerable pressure to keep it all together, I gave myself a lot of unnecessary stress over it and did not enjoy my breakfast at all. I was sweating over my physical posture the whole damn time, trying to make it work but failing, which was a pity because the food served was both tasty and delicious.

Took a walk to the ashram office after breakfast to see if it was possible for me to stay on for an extra two days after my allotted time there. The night before I figured that my travel schedule would allow me to do this and since I felt that I was now settling into life at the ashram, it seemed like it would be a great thing to do. This was despite the almost constant nighttime disturbances of my mind those lorries caused and daytime ones which came from trying to sit on the floor of the dining hall at meal times. I was to be disappointed however, because the man in the office almost laughed and told me there was no chance of me being able to stay any longer than what I had booked for. Fact of the matter was the ashram was more or less completely full all year round, which was why it had been necessary for me to write to them a couple of months in advance. I walked away pretending not to be hacked off about it, but in truth I was more than a little bit gutted because I’d already got it into my head that I would be able to stay there two days extra, falling victim to what had turned out to be little more than deluded expectation.

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Journey to Ramanasramam: Settling In & Finding My Feet

Second in a four part account of a trip to Ramanasramam, making my way across South India from the Tibetan settlement of Bylakuppe two hours west of Mysore in the state of Karnataka, to the city of Chennai on the east coast of Tamil Nadu before heading down the next day to the pilgrimage town of Tiruvannamalai.

Shifted across to the ashram the following morning without too much grief. The Hotel Ramakrishna had been a good place to stay, the double room I’d booked was a decent price, not over the top, whilst the friendly staff and excellent restaurant meant I would have no hesitation in going there again if that was ever on the agenda. The auto rickshaw ride across town cost me 60 rupees which was probably a bit too pricey, but since I was standing outside the Ramakrishna with a rather heavy rucksack slung over my shoulder and no other form of transport in sight, there was only so much time I could spend in attempting to cut the best possible deal. Naturally enough I booked myself in at the ashram office without any problem and after the formalities were completed I was taken to my room, which was perfectly fine, also being located in a quiet part of the ashram. It came with a small attached bathroom, about which I was warned not to waste water because it was now on the cusp of the hot and dry season when such things began to get scarce. Fair enough, saw the point, I also saw there was a framed picture of Ramana Maharshi gazing serenely out at me from the middle of the cabinet opposite my bed. Nice one! This was good, it made me feel that I would be able to sit there and meditate in my room without any problem. After sorting through the usual stuff which goes with travelling in India, precious things such as books to read, notebooks to write in, music to listen to, clothes to wear, toiletries, torch, mosquito spray, I was ready to take a walk down to the meditation hall.

Sat there in the meditation hall, sat on my meditation stool for over an hour, where it was much less busy than the evening before when I had first stuck my head through the door. Happy to report that it was good sitting on the meditation stool which I had brought along with me, having stored it at the bottom of my rucksack before I’d hit the road from the settlement. I was taking in the silence of the hall, its black floor so worn and shiny, the couch in the corner where Ramana Maharshi had sat and upon which now rested a huge oil painting portrait of him, making it feel as if he was still very much there. He always told people before he passed away, that his presence extended beyond his body and into the deeper dimensions of time and space. Just a question of faith as to whether you believed it or not.

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Journey to Ramanasramam: Getting There from Mysore

First in a four part account of a trip to Ramanasramam, making my way across South India from the Tibetan settlement of Bylakuppe two hours west of Mysore in the state of Karnataka, to the city of Chennai on the east coast of Tamil Nadu before heading down the next day to the pilgrimage town of Tiruvannamalai.

On the road, back on the tracks. A cross country swing west to east. First from Bylakuppe Tibetan settlement to Mysore by car with my brother in law Sonam Tashi, then the Shatabdi Express train from Mysore to Chennai with one stop in Bangalore along the way, all in all a 10 hour ride. Mysore to Bangalore, done that part of the journey so many times before it doesn’t bear thinking about and the leg to Chennai I have done quite a few times as well. All back in the days when we used to fly from London to Chennai because there hadn’t been a direct flight to Bangalore, something which got rectified around 2004.

This time seemed better as the train was pretty new which meant it was actually possible to see through the windows and get a good view of the country, the plains country of southern Karnataka, followed by the plains country of northern Tamil Nadu. Nothing too much to write home about in terms of sights seen if truth be told, but quietly fascinating nonetheless. Rolling through the places out east along the way from the sandalwood city of Mysore to the garden city of Bangalore went something like this – Mandya, sugar town; Maddur, spice town; Channapatna, city of toys; Ramanagara, silk city. Stared out the window most of the time as the land passed on by and gradually faded into sunset, then when there was nothing more to see I sat there and read a book.

Train was full after Bangalore, packed to the rafters. An Indian couple sat in the seats behind me were relentlessly speaking English with their children, educating them mercilessly for the whole damn ride. Education, education, education; that was the name of the game, the only show in town as far as they were concerned, no dust bowl gazin’ for them that was for sure. It dawned on me that I would have absolutely nuthin’ to say to them if they spoke to me. They were neither good nor bad, just living out their destinies right on the button, pushing on all the way to the top if they could, for them and their children and for generations to come. Now, when was it exactly I fell off that particular tree?

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