Extract from Gaur Gopal’ Book: ’Life’s Amazing Secrets’
To most people, the word ashram induces a romanticized vision of a temple situated in the foothills of a mountain whose name is difficult to pronounce. But not our ashram! Our ashram is a network of corridors in South Mumbai, a part of town that never sleeps. With over 100 monks living together, it can feel congested at times. One can imagine how long we’re waiting for the bathrooms in the morning.
One day, ten years ago, I stormed into the room of my spiritual guide, Radhanath Swami. We’re fortunate that he lives with us in the ashram, giving us easy access to him to share our joys and listen to our grievances. Have you been inside his quarters? They’re extraordinary! If you could capture the smell of simplicity and sell it as a fragrance, it would be the essence of his room. Measuring a mere 5 sq. metres, with two simple tube lights and straw mats that line the floor, it feels as if one is entering a village home. The place is barren of furniture except for a small table that rests a few inches above the ground and a wooden chair for the elderly guests who visit him. Bookshelves line two of the walls up to the ceiling, with ancient books of wisdom sitting side-by-side with contemporary research. Musical instruments—a harmonium, and a mridangam drum—sit next to the focal point of the room, a small altar on which rest the deities of his meditation.
‘It’s all changing,’ I whispered under my breath as I knocked on my guru’s door.
‘Come in!’ he said. I sulked through the wooden doors with my head down.
Radhanath Swami was sitting on the floor at his modest desk, his legs crossed and back straight. I repeated what I had said a little louder as I sat down and crossed my legs.
‘Tt’s all changing!’ I couldn’t take it; I had to tell him.
‘Gaur Gopal?’ he said inquisitively in his American accent that now had hints of an Indian one. He peered at me over his reading glasses with a penetrating gaze. He closed the book he was reading, which had a cover that looked like a relic from a bygone era, and went back to his original stance with his hands in his lap. I had his attention. That was my signal to speak.
I exploded. For forty-five minutes I nitpicked every grievance I had with the management of the temple and the many people who had wronged me. I complained that if this continued, it would ruin our community. I felt like a self-appointed saviour who had to point out these negative mannerisms creeping into our society. ‘If we do nothing about all this, everything will be spoiled,’ I finally ended. He sat there with a grave look on his face. Not a word left his mouth as I grumbled on.
‘Have you finished?’ he said sternly.
I sighed, ‘Yes.’
‘There are so many positive things happening in our community,’ he started.
For the next forty-five minutes, he did not mention a single complaint I had made. He only focused on the positives, uplifting my mood. ‘I am not saying these problems don’t exist, but the real problem is that when negativity consumes the mind, not only do we lose the vision to see the beautiful things around us, but also the ability to solve the problems that confront us. We have to train our mind to focus on the positive and feel empowered to deal with the negative.’
He then spent equal amounts of time going through the practical solutions to all my problems and then swiftly instructed me to go for lunch with all the other monks in the dining hall. He did not ignore the fact that some of my complaints were genuine. It was not that the problems I had were not real. We all go through real challenges, for which solutions should be found. But what Radhanath Swami taught me was the power of having a positive state of mind whilst dealing with problems constructively.
‘That brings a lot of clarity,’ Harry said.
I could sense a ‘but’.
‘But how long did your positive attitude last? Are you telling me that
Radhanath Swami just told you to be positive and it miraculously happened?’
“Well the miracle lasted at least an hour until lunchtime,’ I laughed. ‘This state of mind develops over time, and I realized that fully while eating lunch.’
I left Radhanath Swami’s room in high spirits. That’s one of the effects of enlightened people; they make others feel inspired in their company. I galloped to the lunch hall (not physically; anyone who has ever worn a dhoti would understand how hard that is) elated and full of positive energy. The kitchen at our ashram cooks lunch for over 200 people daily. They have pots bigger than some grown men, and gas burners with flames larger than many ceremonial wedding fires. National Geographic featured our kitchen in their documentary on India’s Mega Kitchens.
Steamed rice, dal (lentil), spicy vegetable curries and hot flatbread chapattis— a simple, but satisfying lunch. What enhanced the flavour for me even more was the new appreciation for the people around me. The people in the room were a bit like my lunch. On occasions, the dal does not have enough salt, the curry is too spicy, or the gulab jamun has a bit too much ghee. However, they still nourish me. I looked at every face in that hall. I may have perceived faults in them in the past, but they had all helped me in my journey. I learnt on that day that when we think negatively of people, we should immediately counteract that energy by contemplating three positive qualities they have. I did make some awkward lingering eye contact with many of the monks in that hall as I gawked at them, leaving them with confused expressions. But my intention was correct; I was training the mind to see the good. Not for winning arguments!
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Sanmargam 