Meditation and Kali Puja

Mama’s time in Kolkata was limited so we tried hard to see as much of the city and get as much culture as possible when we weren’t volunteering. I realized that I had somehow made it through my first trip and half of my second trip to Kolkata without getting up close to the Victoria Memorial. The 90-year-old building dedicated to Queen Victoria, Empress of India, is Kolkata’s most famous colonial era landmark. Today it houses a museum that features colonial era art as well as touring exhibits more oriented to Indian artists and culture.

Entrance to the museum was expensive and I had heard that it was not that impressive. Luckily, we found plenty of interesting things in the surrounding gardens and on the steps. There were a couple of men working on one of the walkways in front. They were removing a large tile and replacing it. Mama found this fascinating. In fact it was actually pretty interesting to watch these men at work, but also something that I normally would have overlooked. We were going to get up and walk around, but we decided to stay a little longer just to watch them finish their job.

Since it is not only a major tourist site for foreigners, but also for Indians, we became part of the attraction. Indians coming from smaller town or villages found the sight of white people to be quite the novelty. A couple times we noticed people discreetly and not so discreetly putting us in the frame of the photos they were taking. At one point a group of giggling teenage girls came up and asked to take our picture. We abided. 

The Victoria Memorial

Fixing a tile.

My fellow tourists.

One of our other “cultural experiences” was when we decided to go to a nearby meditation center called Sri Aurobindo Bhavan. I had tried to go once before for an open meditation session, but I was misinformed of when they were. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but I was under the impression that it would be some sort of guided meditation. I have done some meditation before in different scenarios, so I know there are many practices and methods and I was curious what this would be like. We entered the compound the compound one night and walked around the building to a courtyard in the back. There was a concrete gazebo-like structure with pools of water around it with an altar. A few people were taking turns paying their respects at the altar to a guru for whom this center was constructed in the honor of. They carried out ceremonies with incense and garlands of flowers. It was completely silent, save for the slightly muted street traffic from beyond the compound. A few people were already seated, getting into meditative poses. There was a man there who appeared to be the leader of the meditation session. I glanced at him occasionally, awaiting instruction. Promptly at 7:00, he got up and turned off all the lights, then went and sat on the steps near us. Mama and I quickly realized this meditation would have no guide and we were on our own. I got into my most lotus-like position and meditated like I hadn’t done in years. Which is to say, not that well. It was a generally peaceful setting, but as much as they tried to make it tranquil, there is no escaping the street noise and occasional post-Diwali firecracker that sounds like dynamite. For the first fifteen or twenty minutes I had managed to get focused as well as I could have hoped to, but towards the end I was getting distracted by my aching legs and the bombs. A few minutes before the thirty-minute session was up, some sort of caterpillar-like bug fell on me from somewhere. I silently freaked out, flailing my legs and arms, trying desperately to rid my body of whatever mystery creature had so disrespectfully interrupted my meditation. Needless to say, I was at least a little relieved when it was over. In the end, I did feel refreshed and relaxed. There was a small part of me that was disappointed that I hadn’t learned much, but another part that felt revived to have experienced that small bit of relative peace in the overwhelming city. On the way out, we saw that there was a sign that explained the upcoming meditation programs. It said that there was a beginner’s meditation class in a few days.

So we came back to attend the beginner’s class. It was inside the building, up the stairs in a stuffy brown and book-filled room. There were a couple dozen folding metal chairs set up in rows. We took our seats towards the back and everyone else filled in around us. A man came up and began speaking to the group. He spoke in English, although we seemed to be the only foreigners there. It seemed to be an interesting group of people of different ages, genders and social standing, although most looked like they were probably educated. Although the man was speaking English, we could not understand anything. His accent, his mumbling, and the cacophony from the streets coming through the open windows made it impossible for us. We waited patiently to at least get into some meditating but after fifteen or twenty minutes, we saw that we wouldn’t be happening. It didn’t matter, though, since we were pretty much zoned out into our own meditative states the entire time. After 45 minutes the instructor was showing no signs of slowing down. We had no other choice but to get up and quietly walk out. As soon as we were out of the building, we just looked at each other and started laughing. It really just seemed like this whole meditation thing was not meant to be.

Another night, we went down to Baba Ghat on the Hooghly River to witness the celebrations for the end of Kali Puja. It was very similar to the end of Durga Puja. People from all over the city piled into the backs of pickup trucks with statues of the goddess Kali, drove down to the river, banged on drums, danced, then carried the statue to the river and pushed it into the flow. While I was under the impression that Durga Puja was the biggest celebration of its kind in Kolkata, I had been disappointed at how calm it seemed. The less famous Kali Puja, on the other hand, blew me away with how raucous it was. Also, there were not nearly as many foreigners there. The people seemed far more upbeat (to the point of out of control) and it was much more crowded. My favorite part was Kali herself. She is probably my favorite Indian deity (in a close battle with Jaganath). While she is the goddess of empowerment, she is more well-known as the goddess of death, time and change. She is usually represented as a black figure with read eyes, tongue sticking out, dawning a large necklace of human heads and standing over the dead body of Lord Shiva.

For whatever reason, there were a lot of police and security there. They prohibited us from actually going up to the water where the statues were being pushed into the water. I was a little annoyed. I mean, it made sense in a way, since it was so crowded with the people carrying the figures and the slope down to the water was dangerously muddy and slick. But at the same time, this is India, where most things like this tend to be something of a free-for-all. Just when we had gotten our fill of Kali-carrying, the biggest statue of the night, at least fifteen feet tall, arrived. I needed to see how they were going to move it from the truck and down to the river. It took about a dozen men to move it from the truck to the ground, and then pull it down to the river. I was able to sneak past the security and get a closer look, but there were still too many people around it to get a very good look.

 

As for volunteering, Mama had wanted to work with children. Unfortunately there is a policy about committing to at least a month or two for most of the orphanages and homes for children. So she ended up volunteering at Kali Ghat, the home for the dying and destitute that was temporarily located in the same compound as Prem Dan, where I had been volunteering. After a few days, she felt that there was not much need for her at Kali Ghat because of the abundance of volunteers, so she switched to Prem Dan. It seemed to work better for her, since she had more opportunity to be useful and connect with the large number of sick and disabled women. I can’t really speak for what she went through there, but I can imagine that, like for most people, it was a powerful and life-changing experience.

Although we could not volunteer at any of the homes for children, we were free to spend a day visiting and volunteering during the afternoon. We got a guest pass from Sister Maria to go to Daya Dan, a home for disabled children. We were a little confused when we arrived, since the building was not really well marked. Some people in the neighborhood pointed us to the wrought iron door and we rang a buzzer. Suddenly a rambunctious small child ran up to the door and started reaching through the bars, trying to grab my water bottle. It was a few minutes before one of the massis (female workers) came and took control of the child and let him in. We explained that we wer there to volunteer for the day and showed our not from Sister Maria. She didn’t seem to care much and directed us to sit down and wait. Then she left. We sat and waited for a while, wondering if we should just leave. After about twenty minutes, we were getting ready to leave, when one of the sisters came down the stairs. She seemed surprised to see us and asked what we were doing there. We explained again and she told us to wait. She opened a nearby door and the same kid that we had first seen came running out and went right for my water bottle. He grabbed it before I could react then shoved it into his mouth and started chugging. When he was done, he pulled it from his lips, strands of spit clinging like spider webs for a good eight inches then handed it back to me and ran away. I guess I’m just generous like that.

Mama was instructed to go upstairs to be with the girls and I was to stay downstairs with the boys. When I walked in, I had a similar reaction to when I first entered Prem Dan. Apprehension mixed with shock from the condition of the people there. The kids had a wide range of mental and physical disabilities. My task was simply to play with them. I also assumed the role of conflict mediator, as it really seemed like some of the kids were constantly trying to clobber some of the more vulnerable kids. One boy, who was a little bit bigger than most of the others, and a lot less disabled was constantly having one-way pillow fight with a small boy who couldn’t speak but had a permanent smile. Basically, he just kept throwing stuffed animals at the boy, who continued to smile the whole time. I was pretty lost the whole time, wondering what exactly my role for this couple of hours should be. It made a lot of sense to me why the organization requires volunteers to commit for a longer period of time. First of all, I knew I was pretty useless as just a volunteer for the day. Second, it is not good for the children to have a constant stream of different strangers caring for them. It will surely be an situation of unhealthy attachment issues. The afternoon continued with meal time. This was, predictably, a terribly messy event. At least, though, I felt like I was helping the sisters out with feeding the children who couldn’t feed themselves. Food was everywhere, and some of the stubborn kids were being force fed by the sisters. As nasty as it got, I could still step back and look at myself and laugh at what I had gotten into for the day. And as serious as the circumstance is for these kids, sometimes the only way to get through these difficult days is to look at it with a bit of humor.