A
couple of weeks ago we were in Rishikesh and the place was filling up with
participants for the big International Yoga Festival; these people had come
from all over the world to attend the event, and one person we asked said that
around seven thousand people were expected to be there this year. We were there
for two nights en route from Haridwar to stay with friends in Dehradun after
eight weeks travelling in India, and with just two left until our return
to the UK.
We
had been staying in a hotel not far from the banks of the fast flowing grey
blue Ganges, with views of the town, the temples, ashrams and the wooded hills
that dominate the valley revered by so many. From our balcony we were able to
observe the comings and goings of the clientele of the Pure Soul Cafe and
Organic Kitchen, which we ourselves had visited earlier - very nice too. Most
of the people that came and went were all you would expect from attendees at
such a festival; lithe, physically confident and completely at ease in the
spiritual environment of the valley of the Rishis. This is where the Beatles
famously spent some time with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in February 1968, thus
creating a surge of interest in all things Indian in the West, as well as being
instrumental in causing a flurry of gurus to make their way westward.
What,
in this world drowning in so many problems, is spirituality?
Just
a few days before our visit to Rishikesh we were also by the Ganges, this time
just a few metres away from the still rushing river at Haridwar. Here we were
able to observe the festival of Shivratri, where the god, Shiva, is celebrated
and water from the Ganges is gathered to be taken back to the temples to wash
the Shiva lingam. Crowds of people were about, many bathing in the river and
others gathering water in plastic bottles being sold nearby. We were told that
once the water had been collected the container should not be placed in contact
with the ground before it is used in the purification process in the
temple. Apparently, this demanding ritual is all about purification, of
the body and of the spirit. We were able to watch the many groups of people
pass below the hotel, some clearly from the rural areas nearby who had made the
journey to bathe in the river and gather water.
So
we had seen in the space of a few days different faces of the expression of
spirituality: the apparent packaging and commodifying of an ancient way of
living to an affluent world, and the unquestioning continuation of an ancient
devotional practice.
Meanwhile
in Haridwar beggars lined the bridge near where all the activity was
taking place. Crowds passed them, some gave money, occasionally they were given
food by nearby vendors: the awful faces of suffering. Just beyond the river
were the shelters of the landless, set in fields of dust, plastic and all
manner of rubbish. The road between Haridwar and Rishikesh was clogged with
traffic that had to gingerly negotiate partially made surfaces and treacherous driving.
One car lay by the side of the road on the edge of the forest, a mangled
skeleton from which the occupant or occupants could not have emerged alive.
Has
spirituality anything to do with the way we treat our fellow humans? Has it
anything to do with our wanton destruction of our world? Or is it just a matter
of personal salvation, the achievement of a higher state; higher than you or
me?
Or
is it the going beyond the self, the ego driven individual that compares and
divides? Is it the connection with the suffering of all living beings that
comes with cooperation and collaboration? And is it the deep understanding of
the indivisibility of all humanity?
Our
learning is so deeply conditioned by competition, exploitation and the worship
of narrow achievement that to teach our children to go beyond the limitations
of their own experience goes against the way the vast majority of us live.
However, humanity has reached a point where change must occur in order to
divert us from the road to self-destruction; and the ground for this change
lies in education and a re-examining of the way we approach learning. The
question is: how can this be done?
* * *
This
has been written in the final week of a ten week trip to India; visiting
schools, reconnecting with friends, having conversations with young and old
alike. Maggie and I have covered significant distances, seen and heard many
things, experienced extraordinarily generous hospitality and received so much
affection. We have observed the dreadful suffering of humanity and the terrible
destruction of the land, for in India all life appears to be laid bare and
there seems to be very little that is hidden behind closed doors. When we
return I am acutely aware that I will have to continue to respond to this challenge
for change; there is considerable responsibility in privilege and, among many
other things, this trip has confirmed that we have been, and are, very
privileged.
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