My Visit To Mother India part 2 | Inspiration Sun

Purushottama is a remarkable person. He is innately spiritual. It is a
natural existence for him to be contemplating the spiritual, the
divine and figuring out how to manifest light through his music. It
seems that it consumes most of his waking hours. It is as if he is on
a train that never stops. He just keeps moving forward with new ideas,
new goals, new dreams. Our Guru has fuelled the fire, loaded the
engine with coal and set the train apace with new speed and urgency.
Here is a powerful instrument with his heart-door wide open to Guru's
love and compassion. Wow! I was so inspired, Purushottama was so
inspired and India was the perfect place to set in motion the designs
for this concert.

Before we went back to Bangalore I had a chance to meet so many people
in the surrounding villages. One village had no water. You could see
the women with buckets in their hands or on their heads walking to and
fro to a village 6km away to get water. Everyone worked from the early
hours until late at night - for survival. The women looked so
beautiful in their saris. It was amazing. The place could be so dirty
but the saris somehow remained so colourful and clean. As I arrived at
a village I would be taken around and introduced to everyone. All
would come out and shake my hand or wave or have their photo taken.
This was a big thing. Some had never had their photo taken. It was a
big deal. My driver told me that they could not take photos of each
other. It would cause a huge argument and fight if someone took a
photo of someone else but for a tourist it was ok, more than ok. The
huts and houses were painted all kinds of bright colours. Bright
greens, strong blues and oranges, purple and yellows. It was so
beautiful. At times the nature reminded me of Tuscany, in a strange
kind of way. I was in true heaven. Italy and India. The perfect
combination!

One day we decided to visit a temple far away, about six hours on
bumpy roads. The temple had some special history that I have now
forgotten, the curse of age. We drove through endless wilderness and
stumbled on villages from time to time. As the hours flew past our
driver would slow down to walking speed, wind down the window and
yell, in an unnecessarily loud voice, to anybody who would listen,
asking for directions. As the villagers stared in amazement at us,
arms pointed in all different directions. Here we go, I thought. We'll
be back here in two hours asking for directions again. After a few
prayers with crossed fingers, legs and anything else that can be
crossed we somehow made it. The village was centred around this
temple. All the beggars were there. It seemed the word had got out
that we were coming. It was rather intense. Bhuvaneshwari looked a
little worried as the local girls started surrounding her. They can be
very pushy and demanding. Then some man would arrive with a large
stick and threaten them, shout at them. They would all disperse,
scatter but soon reassemble and follow at a close distance. We reached
the temple and were given the royal treatment. We went straight to
front of the line. You buy a coconut and flowers on a banana leaf and
these are your offerings to the Gods. The priest smashes the coconut
and sprays the water over the shrines. The shell is left at the bottom
of the shrine as food for the gods and the flowers are put on the
statues. The whole ritual scene is all around as lines of people queue
to make their offering. Then another priest arrives and tells us to go
up some steps to another shrine. This is a special ceremony for the
rich. A few Indian visitors joined us. There was another shrine, and
another priest started chanting slokas. The next moment he beckoned
our group and handed to each of us an ornate rod of bronze. The rod
was about two and half feet long with carved reliefs and sanskrit
writing. We descended the steps to join the crowds below and were
joined by three musicians. We were told to follow them as they played
on ancient looking instruments and we circled the inside of the temple
3 times. As we passed the crowds of onlookers, they would stretch out
their hands to caress the bronze rods while chanting prayers, all in
wonderstruck awe and amazement. They would look at us as if we were
some divine beings. We had only been in the village for about 15
minutes. I told myself I had to keep it together. Ever since childhood
I've had this problem of laughing at the most inappropriate times. I
bit my lip and focused hard. But in front of me I heard Bhuvaneshwari
starting to laugh. It was just that the whole thing seemed so surreal.
I put my head down as I lost control and then when the moment passed I
would look up again with a serious gaze. Then it was suddenly over. We
gave back the rods, headed for the car and we were on are way back
home. One of the more bizarre experiences of my life.

Sadly we had to say goodbye after a few days. We all headed back to
the big city and in huge contrast we stayed at a big hotel, not unlike
the Christmas trip. We met up with the band. A great bunch of guys. I
had got to know them all quite well in London at last year's concert.
It was great to see them again and I think they were happy to see me
too. Purushottama performed that night as part of an Indo-Russian arts
exchange programme. The 200-person audience had all been invited and
loved the concert. At one point a middle-aged man got up and started
dancing in the aisles. Inhibitions here are lower than what I'm used
to. He was on display and did not let the audience down with his
Bhangra-style dance. More of the audience followed, leapt out of their
seats, and displayed an unusual amount of courage, considering dance
was clearly not their forte. But joy and innocence abounded and I
loved the whole evening. Some travelling Russians had slipped by the
guards and it was a reminder of what Purushottama means to his Russia.
They adore him, look up at him with amazement in their eyes. After the
concert they hung around backstage, desperately hoping to get a
glimpse of their hero, or even an autograph.

For a few hours we could enjoy the luxuries of the 5-star hotel, but
we had to be in the lobby at about 3:30am the next morning to leave
for the airport. Hmmmm. Remind you of anything? There was a ton of
luggage, all the instruments etc, and vans arrived, which needed to be
loaded with the gear. It was deja vu. I laughed to myself. As we
arrived at the airport, all of us bleary-eyed travellers searched out
the coffee dealers desperate for a caffeine injection. I've been here
so many times, I thought to myself.

We flew to Delhi. We had another successful concert there. I preferred
Bangalore. Delhi was a bit too crowded and dirty. Then we had to say
our farewells. Mine was not only to Purushottama and Bhuvaneshwari but
also to India. I see now why people go and stay and stay and stay. I
am so grateful to Purushottama and Bhuvaneshwari. They so generously
looked after me the whole time. Such big hearts reside in both of
them. But I know who really made this trip possible. It was my beloved
Guru. I could feel him with me every step of the way. This trip was
the foundation for the concert we just had. Here Purushottama made his
plans. Thank you Guru. It is all your Grace.

>From Inspiration Sun edition 6

Part 1 http://srichinmoyinspiration.com/forums/23163