The Adventures of Bindi Girl: (2012) (14 page)

One dorm in particular, “J Block,” where the brand-new students reside, is particularly problematic. J Block houses all green students, all very giddy, in a vast hall with no doors and only curtains to separate the beds—making for a stewpot of chitchat. Afternoons, I ring the little silver bell less than six inches from the ear of a woman pretending to be passed out asleep. She has complete cognition that I am endeavoring to get her attention, and she is ignoring me entirely.

But these women, I try to remind myself, are doing the best they can. In their daily life, it’s un-HEARD of to remain silent with their female cohorts for an hour, let alone a whole day, or ten! I try to keep this in mind as somehow the lot of us makes it through the grueling days of Cat and Mouse. On Day Ten, the women are able to break silence—officially, that is, since they’ve been verbose all along. And, they reveal themselves as some of my greatest teachers, having embodied the Buddhist tale of Mara’s Daughters.

See, when Siddhartha Gautama, the future Buddha, was meditating under the Bodhi Tree around 500 B.C., determined to reach enlightenment and vowing not to move from his seated posture until he was fully and completely awake, he had a stealthy visitor, the demon Mara. Diabolical Mara sent his ten daughters of distraction to tempt Gautama away from his journey of awakening. During that long, full moon night of the month of May, Mara’s devilish daughters did their
darndest
to distract the future Buddha from his enlightenment endeavor.

It dawns on me that
my ladies of the “J Dorm” are Mara’s Daughters, come to life in the Twenty-First Century!
They use every trick, every bit of sneaking and conniving possible to avoid my prodding, my bells, my hand-wringing pleas to get them to the meditation hall. They sneer and giggle behind my back. Some play opossum, and some flat-out ignore my existence.

On Day Ten, I keep in mind that “you catch more flies with honey than vinegar” as I make my way to J Block for the afternoon roundup. The period of Noble Silence has come to an end, but they still have to get to the meditation hall. But now, I’m on to them! I’ve come to realize that the only way to gain rapport with Mara’s Daughters is to make a joke out of the whole thing, to laugh at the whole absurd set-up.

I approach J Dorm where ten of the worst troublemakers are piled onto one bed, hidden behind a curtain, SINGING Bollywood Hindi songs at the top of their lungs, expressing sheer glee at being set free from silence. Even though silence is technically over, students are requested to not sing or dance during the course, as it’s still a “monastic” environment for the time being. Technically, I’m supposed to stop them at once.

But frankly, I’m tired of being Female Police Officer. I fling back the curtains to expose the nest of naughty ne’er-do-wells. They look at me expectantly, waiting for me to ring my little silver bell and reprimand them vigorously. Instead, I turn the tables. They have no idea that I possess lung power as loud as theirs, if not louder. I start belting out the first song that comes to mind, sure to be recognized in any language:

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!” I sing at the top of my lungs. The wily women are shocked. The Police Cop is Singing! The Police Cop is Singing! All of us then collapse into a collective fit of laughter. They realize I’ve been on their side all along. They know now, with the gift of coming through one of the most difficult, yet rewarding experiences of their lives, that my reprimanding was all for the best. Tough love, if you will.

I’ve still got a job to do. Somehow, I’ve got to get these women off to the meditation hall. And, now that silence is broken, there’s no way they’re going to break their gossiping to get moving. Since they don’t speak a stick of English, there’s no use explaining anything anyway, so, to get these ladies on their merry way, I call on my two best friends—Humor and Enthusiasm.

I figure, this is an agricultural land. If nothing else, they’ll understand cow herding! I begin to make cow herding noses, clicking my tongue and yelling “Haaa! Haaa! HAAAH!” just as I’ve witnessed women doing in the fields of rural India. Then, I start mooing—“Moooooooooooooo! MOOOOOOOOOO!”—and sweeping their ankles with a broom of rushes to get them moo-ving.

The Daughters of Mara let loose a hearty round of hysterical smiles, snickers, and snorts. They’ve got it! They’ve been acting like animals all along. Therefore, the Police Cop is going to treat them like animals!

They are still dragging ass, glimpsing in mirrors and taking their time. I reassure them that their bindis, bangles, and hair buns are all in place.
You look fabulous, darling. Get thee to the meditation hall, sister.
More shooing, mooing, and rush-brooming. And, miraculously, move on, they do! Some of them actually seem happy to oblige as we mutually, merrily MOOve toward the main hall.

The Daughters of Mara reveal the power of levity and lightheartedness the next morning, the last morning of the course. As usual, I enter their dorm at 4 a.m.—when I couldn’t before stir the dead—to find ALL the J Dorm Daughters wide-awake, dutifully dressed, sitting on the edge of their beds, ready to go and waiting for me.

I am shocked, and happy! I enter the dorm and cheerily call out, “Good Morning, Ladies!” to which they respond, “Good morning!” and off they scurry to the hall behind me, just like a chattering charge of chicks following a mother hen. I don’t even have to ring the bell once. And I don’t have to moo, either.

What was that word again? En-LIGHT-enment? Oh yes! Keep it
light
. It’s all gonna be alright.

Bhavatu Savva Mangalam

May All Beings Be Happy

And now, a Buddhist interlude to accompany our meditation missive—from
The Paddhana Sutta
, or “The Great Struggle”: The Nirvanic nature of impermanence is very potent, so the demon Mara fights against it to keep us from realizing the Truth. These are the ten daughters (also known as soldiers) of Mara, the destroyers of meditation:

1. Desire to enjoy sense pleasures.

2. Unwillingness to reside or be happy in a quiet place, due to not wanting to be quiet because of the turmoil within.

3. Hunger—unsatisfied with food or alms given.

4. Craving for specific tastes and food.

5. Drowsiness, sloth, torpor.

6. Not wishing to be alone—fear of solitude.

7. Doubt (about whether one can be successful in meditation).

8. Becoming proud and arrogant when the meditation is successful.

9. Becoming well-known, receiving many offerings, gaining much respect and homage (concerning the teacher).

10. Following a false Dharma, creating a new and special Dharma in order to acquire abundant offerings, praising oneself and looking down on others.

Yes, all temptations most definitely exhibited by my Daughters of Mara, as well as myself, on this most recent voyage of self-discovery. How true, we are all mirrors for each other—let us give thanks for our button-pushers for they show us our most potent triggers!

I’m stuck here until I can get a train north back up to Karnataka—it being Christmas high season, everything is booked. I had traveled down to Kerala to take a “yoga vacation” at an ashram outside the capital city of Trivandrum (now renamed the unpronounceable Thiruvananthapuram—get your mouth around that one), but I left the place after twenty-four hours. The overbearing ashram program felt like nails on a chalkboard and I was judging everyone and everything in sight—a horrid attitude all around, and one I chose not to project on the poor, well-meaning people who were actually serious about the whole thing. So, I swiftly transformed into “The Flying Nun,” fled through the ashram gates and hightailed it out of there to
regroup at the nearest travelers’ hub I could get to. Hence I am now here, in “Darkala.”

It’s been a rough week. I hit an attitudinal wall and lost my sense of humor, overcome by the heat, lack of proper nutrition, and incessant harassment by pesky vendors. The last thing you want to do in India is lose your sense of humor. But, my Happy Juices seemed to have run out somewhere along the coastline. Gee, I wonder if it has anything to do with some of the following hassles and hooey:

1. The Latest Scam

I don’t recall ever having been warned about this ploy. A manager creates a potentially confusing situation between two customers (for example, a couple) in a shop or café that they frequent regularly together. They will tell each person, individually, that the other person did not pay before leaving the shop or café. It’s been a few days—you can’t remember and the other person can’t remember—so you feel obliged to just pay again. After all, it’s just a few dollars, right? But after this occurs a few times you start thinking, “
Hmmm
.”

2. The Two-Week Holiday Hoopla

Varkala heavily attracts merrymakers from Europe who are here for two to three weeks for their winter holiday. This creates a vastly different vibe than the one found in long-term budget backpacker haunts. Prices are jacked up sky-high; after all, the Pound Sterling is incredibly strong, anyway, right? Costs of food, guest houses, and sundries are double. Alcohol, flowing freely, puts another spin on the interaction with the locals. Drunk Indian men, overly friendly on the dance floor, add a special twist.

3. Vampiric Vendors

With such a small window of sales opportunity between monsoon and hot seasons, the short tourist season means that all shopkeepers have their eye on hawking and harassing you to BUY, BUY, BUY. You can’t walk ten feet from your door to get a cup of chai without navigating past a dozen hustlers. It’s like they’re putting octopus tentacles out to nab you every time, and it takes an incredible effort to stay non-reactive. The incessant chorus:
“Hello, Friend! How are you!? Come into my shop! Eat nice fish at my restaurant. You’re a star! Come look! Hello! Hello! Oooh, you are model!”

Now add begging dogs, wailing mosques, crying children, sneaky swamis, and more to the mix. I sometimes feel like I’m going to clock someone.

Ah, yes, this is the great equalizer of India travel—the shadow side that separates Those Who Lose Their Patience from Those Who Are Willing to Deal.