Linda: Sri Ram Ashram and Orphanage April 14

Sri Ram Ashram and Orphanage
Everyone once in a while, it is a privilege to see what a difference one human being can make. And it has been my experience that it is often an individual that makes a difference. In this case, it is the wisdom and inspiration of Sri Hari Dass, known here affectionately as Babaji, that has made such a difference.
Babaji was born in the 1920’s. By the age of 6 years old, he had already left his home to live and study in an ashram in the mountains north of Hardiwar. I cannot remember right now exactly when his learning became realization and when others saw and were inspired by his presence. He took a vow a silence, a vow he has not broken for the past 50 years, though he does teach through writing and by example. He established an ashram near Hardiwar. In 1971, he moved to California, where there are classes and retreats at the Mount Madonna Center. (I’m speaking from memory and will have to check on these details.)
Sri Hari Dass’s (Babaji) teachings revolve around the development of positive qualities and inner peace through selfless service and through the practice of Ashtanga yoga, the yoga in which he was instructed. He does not proselytize or advertise. If one is meant to find something or someone, one will find it or them. And the fruit of his love, service, and teaching here in India is in this loving orphanage 20 km outside of Hardiwar … and a 5 minute walk to the Ganges.
One enters the gates and feels the world falling behind like a dream. There are playing fields and equipment. There is a compound with three sides, opening onto a communal courtyard. There are flowers, bushes, and flowering trees. Everywhere are thoughtful touches of loving care. But … where are the children??
Ah. Rest time. It is hot. Tea at 3:30? How lovely. Eleanor and I unpack our bags, rest for a half an hour, and go down when the bell rings. As we have our tea, other adults begin coming out. We sit on a short wall, sipping tea and watching the children as they come outside for free time. Today, it seems is a holiday - so they don’t have a study period this afternoon. Everyone is happy!
Rashmi is the manager of the orphanage. Her energy and her love for the children are evident. Trips are organized. She teaches advanced fitness for the older boys and girls - something challenging … and inspiring for the young ones who watch out of the corners of their eyes, hoping they, too, will one day get to be that big and that strong. In the afternoons, when everyone else is resting, she spends her time with the older ones, helping them with computer skills or other practical things. So many things to see to, to follow up on (including us visitors!), yet, one sees that her heart and her mind are always present for the children, for her reason for being there. They know it. And they love her for it.
Andrea is the resident nurse. She came when she was 18 and "never left". Well, that is not quite true. After a few years, she returned to her home in Germany where she got a three year nurses license. She returned, and has given of her knowledge and her love ever since. When she is not at the clinic, which is open to everyone in the community, she is helping with children and babies, including her own little bundle of joy, Eisha.
Sabhmah ( I know I don’t quite have her name right - my apologies) has also been at the ashram for over 16 years. She has a gentle and wise soul. I wish I could have spoken with her more. Alas, I was there for too short of a time and the children were our reason for being there. There was the need. There was the duty. There was the love. Sabhmah’s main occupation at present is the care of little Sita. Sita is now two months old. She was found, 7 weeks premature, in a field, still wet from birth. She was taken to a hospital in Delhi. Sabhmah stayed with her and loved her. Slowly, slowly, through devoted care, little Sita gained weight, from 3 pounds, she is now 7. And she is well.
And so, the children find their way to this haven of loving care. There are about 66 children presently at the orphanage, with ages spanning 2 months to last year in college. Three girls have grown up here and are now married. There are other loving Ma’s and Da's here, as well as some caring Grandpa’s and other staff members who cook and do some of the necessary daily tasks. The day begins at 5:30. A bell rings and one hears quiet rustlings in the other parts of the compound. Tea is available (and welcomed), and by 6:00 the children are gathered in the courtyard for prayers and a few simple exercises. I walked with Andrea, her husband, Pradesh, their daughter, Eisha, and a couple of other volunteers to the Ganges. It is a wonderful way to start the day! 7:00, breakfast. Then, typically the children would go to school, but, as I said, it is a holiday. I spend the morning with the babies and small children. Oh the joy of a little one in my lap. Or two little ones. Or three! The older children are playing in groups in various parts of the compound. Basketball is a big event here. I played with them yesterday, an interesting game that includes everyone, at least for awhile. I’ll have to show it to my students when I return home. I managed to get it in the basket a couple of times as well! Lunch around 12:30, rest time until 3:30, study time until 5:30, free time until 7:00, dinner, prayers (delightful, with a touch of enthusiastic cacaphonony), and quiet time until bed at 8:30.
It was at this basketball game that I had my first glimmer of the kinds of children that are being raised here. You see, while I was playing, everyone waited until I got the ball in before they took their turn. Out of respect, they did not get me "out". Out of respect, they did not get a younger student "out". They were competitive with their brothers and sisters who were of their ability in a supportive and exciting way. They were caring and nurturing with the younger ones. And that went for all ages. Even the four year olds were mindful of the two year olds. If a little one was wandering about, it was never long before they found someone’s arms to be in. I never saw a child hesitate a single second to help another child. They stopped what they were doing, picked the child up, got the help that was required, and then came back to the game - or didn’t. I didn’t see whining or complaining. Is it always perfect? Probably not. But this kind of caring was the norm. It has been taught to the children; the children teach it to each other. Everyone has someone to go to. And everyone will, someday, be needed and respected and admired by a younger one.
I came here, with my little skein of expertise and opinions. Now, I didn’t get to see the school because it wasn’t in session, and maybe that was a good thing. One has to be so careful when you visit a different country, a different culture. I could hear my little brain thinking, "What can I bring them? What things do I know that will be helpful?" It sounds loving and caring, but it really is all about me. As I watched these children caring for one another, I thought, "How did they do that?" I knew, that if ever I was to help, to really help, I’d have to learn first. I’d have to learn the culture, what is important in their world for them to know, to love, to understand. I’d have to learn the beautiful things that were being done and to not unwittingly undermine it with "good intentions". I’d have to learn, like the women I met there, that it is not about "me", but about them.
Yes, I know many things, and I’ve had many experiences. Are any of those things truly helpful here? Will it be in my destiny to find out? Will I return? Or will Eleanor? Or was this a passing moment? A moment rich in awareness, a blessing, a growth, and a new love in my heart to pray for and cherish during whatever days are left to me in this beautiful world. It’s all good. Will they remember me? Probably not. Will I remember them? Forever. And that, that is what makes the separations in this world bearable. For I know that, somehow, in the depth of my being, that a heartfelt prayer is never left unheard. They will never know, but somewhere, a voice will be praying for them, wishing them well, and willing a guardian angel to watch over them for the rest of their lives.
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End Note: Eleanor couldn’t leave. And that is a good thing. I left Eleanor at the orphanage, where she will work, where she will learn, where she will discover more about herself, where she can be a little independent. I’m sure she will write more when she has time. She will join up with me near Dharamsala, where a large Tibetan community now resides near His Holiness the Dalai Lama. She will travel with another woman from the ashram, so neither will have to travel alone, and I will "pave the way". So, for a little while, we go our separate paths. And that, too, is how it should be.