Sevagram
Excerpts
A. Gandhi's Ashram: Sevagram, in the heart of India, was established in 1936 by MK Gandhi as an experiment in sustainable living. Gandhi believed that before India was ready for independence, it had to relearn how to operate independently - from the earth up. So he started the Swadeshi movement - a grassroots reaffirmation of traditional Indian lifestyles and self-sufficiency, coupled with fundamental ideals of truth, non-violence, equality, and love. I spent five days with the wonderful people here, who gradually let me into their lives. Besides eating utterly-home-grown food, and lending my hands to sweeping, cooking, and spinning, I learned first-hand about making the things we all need: food, clothing, paper, homes, ceramic refridgerators...
B. Gandhi on Terrorism and America: I visited the Institute of Gandhian Studies, and got to share questions with the dean, Prof. Ranjit Chaudhuri.
C. Sanjoy Damyanti's Alternative School: Sanjoy has studied Gandhian thought, and is running a new Gandhian alternative school in the neighboring state of Gujarat. Students that can't or don't want to learn in the rote British model can learn traditional Indian music, math, farming, etc. He explained many things to me, and brought me around to see Gandhi's legacy. He also plays tabla. I surprised both of us by giving him Rs. 2500 ($57) for his school (which gets no government funding). I hope to visit there in December.
mud hut Gandhi built, used to plot revolution
Elaborations
A. Gandhi's Ashram:
My yoga teacher used to say 'pose and re-pose', meaning that we must continually readjust our perspective on even the most fundamental things. Life is in the going, not the arriving. So recently I've taken a step back to rethink some parts of the HKE. Having found a positive and effective way of donating money, I was really getting into it. My experiments in friend-making were going great. So I stopped.
Arriving at the Sevagram ashram, I figured out why. Here they live a simple routine life (if you ignore the fact that they're living in mud huts that Gandhi built, making 90% of their own food and clothes). They get a lot of visitors that read the signs and take pictures and leave, or that stay for a day to enjoy the tranquillity and fresh food. I came here out of curiosity, and they treated me with indifference at first. Looking in the guest book I saw dozens of foreigners (although hardly any Americans) that came for a day or two - always actively seeking something (called 'peace' or 'rest'). Rather than force myself on them, I watched quietly (and often awkwardly) for the first night - the dinner routine and the evening prayer and reading. I tried to fit in where I could, took the cues I was given, and was always willing to answer a question. But I approached these people and their lives with patience and respect.
The second day, after spending the day gradually getting to know the routine and the people, I received a complement. Sanjoy, with whom I spent the afternoon, said that he thought I should travel around India more - that he felt I had an understanding of India and the Indian people that would allow me to fit in wherever I went. I made a good impression on these people - whether it was the fact that I play tabla, my willingness to work for my food, or my patient curiosity - and they've let me in. I've gotten to experience the change from being an outsider that didn't belong to being someone that was greeted with a smile and 'How are you?'.
So having taken a step back, I again eased into my role of the-guy-who-just-wants-to-help. But I've reminded myself why I'm doing this: to give a positive impression, and to wait until people offer me into their lives.
Personally, I'm very curious about where things come from. At the Ashram, I am filled with awe as I eat bread while looking out at the field where the wheat was grown, having watched them drying and grinding the grain. Or drink milk that has just been collected and boiled. In the last week, I've been asking questions with the curiosity of an insatiable three-year-old.
One day, I went with a crew of comical Gandhians on a tour of the area. We went to a museum/institute set up to raise awareness about village industry. I met a Gandhian beekeeper who was collecting the honey from some vicious bees (whose sting could kill an elephant). He found that a calm, fearless, yet patient attitude calmed the bees, and as long as he didn't fight them (with spray or nets), the bees wouldn't try to sting him. I saw and touched cotton growing, learned how it was cleaned, tried my hand at spinning, saw where they weave the fabric, and even visited a (completely organic) dye shop. We went to the Center of Science for Villages, where they are doing several very innovative things. They're experimenting with different paper-making techniques. I learned (and saw!) how paper was made: from the banana, coconut, or burlap scraps, to the pulp, to the pressing and drying, to the coloring. They do it without any chemicals here. They're developing an old style of building roofs - cheaper, stronger, safer, and more environmental than concrete - by basically arching a long stack of ceramic cups. I saw the clay, the spun ceramic, the kiln, and the final product. They were also producing simple ceramic refridgerators - large urns with a concentric basin at the opening, to be filled with cold water.
I was thoroughly enjoying myself, learning, touching, and asking. These people were combining traditional good ideas with modern good ideas, all with a do-it-yourself stipulation. Then, unbelievably, I saw something I thought only existed in my imagination: a bicycle whose chain was rerouted, via gears, to spinning a table saw. One person rides the bike, another person cuts wood. I felt like I'd seen the loch ness monster, or a purple elephant with two heads, or a giant squid.
homespun fabric drying after dyeing
ceramic 'cups' that will be fired, stacked, and arched to form a cheap but strong roof
the ceramic refridgerator, next to another natural cooler (the porous clay sweats and the evaporation cools the water inside)
what paper looks like as it is strained from watery pulp, before it is pressed and dried
the loch ness monster
part of the Sevagram crew (from left) - Sanjoy, a very helpful and wise man; Prakashbhai, who hasn't brushed his teeth or worn shoes for 20 years, and is going gently senile; Jendrabhai, a very inquisitive Gandhian who, I found out later, has written several books on Vedic Mathematics; Damyanti, Sanjoy's wife and partner; another very nice lady
B. Gandhi on Terrorism and America:
I went with Sanjoy to a nearby town, where we visited the Institute for Gandhian Studies. Sanjoy had studied there, and he took me to meet the dean, Prof. Ranjit Chaudhuri. I was curious about how Gandhi's ideas were being applied to the present, especially with regard to the global threat of terrorism. Prof. Chaudhuri had organized world-renowned workshops, taught classes, and written books on it, and I met him sitting on his bed in his pyjamas. He's a very animated and engaging man, and we had a delightful conversation.
In summary, his message to the American people is twofold: there is a non-violent solution to terrorism, and 'you Americans are too proud!' (he pointed and yelled this phrase).
First of all, terrorism is in the mind, and violence is in the mind. Terrorism is a perfect demonstration of the idea that violence only creates more violence, and violence can only be stopped by starting internally, with our minds. There will always be violence and terrorism, but we can hope to minimize and isolate it by taking away its effectiveness in causing pain and fear. There are hundreds of Saddam Hussains in the world, and we must take the power out from underneath them. Politically and culturally, there are ways of making violence ineffective. To do this, we must start with ourselves, our own minds. He told me a meditation he teaches, where you visualize your enemy and hold that idea with the idea 'I have no enemies'. Christianity has been corrupted, he said; Jesus taught we should show our enemies love, not hate. All religions teach this.
Secondly, he said, America is addicted to power. We can destroy the world many times over, but we can't create it. Modern Gandhians think we all must be world citizens, acting in the interest of the earth and all people. Americans are unaware of how they are affecting the world, and they are too proudly imposing themselves throughout. He thought our invasion of Iraq was perfect evidence of this arrogance and lack of respect for world cultures or the power of non-violence. Gandhi understood that a country must prepare itself for independence (thus the efforts in traditional sustainable living). It's really no surprise that Iraq is a mess, and there's nothing America's military power can do about it.
I told Prof. Chaudhuri about my project, and some stories. He approved. He said that the Gandhian principle on non-violence doesn't only mean refraining from destruction, it means acting creatively. To live non-violently is to act without violence and to act in a way that makes others less violent. I thought of one of my favorite quotes: 'The opposite of war isn't peace - it's creation.'
C. Sanjoy Damyanti's Alternative School:
Sanjoy and his wife, Damyanti, are Gandhian scholars. They were returning to Sevagram briefly on part of a three-week tour of India and India's Gandhian institutions. They were looking to see the state of Gandhi's teachings, in the form of NGOs, schools, ashrams, etc. They offered to show me the local organizations, and interpret, so I tagged along for a few days. Their school in Gujarat is a sort of charter school for children that 'don't fit' in the national system, although the Indian government doesn't offer them any funding. They teach Indian classical music, Vedic mathematics (part of India's rich history, recorded in the Vedas 3000 years ago), traditional organic farming methods, and other standard subjects. They do this while emphasizing Gandhi's principles of respect for life, equality of all people, humility, and simplicity. I really liked Sanjoy, especially because he was my teacher here - he explained and interpreted all the things I learned (see B). We had a moment: standing in a field as the sun was setting, he told me how Gandhi's principles of truth and non-violence are inherent in the earth, and have been resonating ever since the first flower. I believe there is wisdom there, and his hope for the future was contagious.
Sanjoy also plays tabla. I brought him to my room and we played for each other. I spontaneously put Rs. 2500 in an envelope and gave it to him. He very nearly refused it in kindness, but we both knew that it was for a good cause. He insisted that I should come and see the school, see what they were doing, and especially see the tabla students. I would like to, and perhaps I will.
A. Gandhi's Ashram: Sevagram, in the heart of India, was established in 1936 by MK Gandhi as an experiment in sustainable living. Gandhi believed that before India was ready for independence, it had to relearn how to operate independently - from the earth up. So he started the Swadeshi movement - a grassroots reaffirmation of traditional Indian lifestyles and self-sufficiency, coupled with fundamental ideals of truth, non-violence, equality, and love. I spent five days with the wonderful people here, who gradually let me into their lives. Besides eating utterly-home-grown food, and lending my hands to sweeping, cooking, and spinning, I learned first-hand about making the things we all need: food, clothing, paper, homes, ceramic refridgerators...
B. Gandhi on Terrorism and America: I visited the Institute of Gandhian Studies, and got to share questions with the dean, Prof. Ranjit Chaudhuri.
C. Sanjoy Damyanti's Alternative School: Sanjoy has studied Gandhian thought, and is running a new Gandhian alternative school in the neighboring state of Gujarat. Students that can't or don't want to learn in the rote British model can learn traditional Indian music, math, farming, etc. He explained many things to me, and brought me around to see Gandhi's legacy. He also plays tabla. I surprised both of us by giving him Rs. 2500 ($57) for his school (which gets no government funding). I hope to visit there in December.
mud hut Gandhi built, used to plot revolution
Elaborations
A. Gandhi's Ashram:
My yoga teacher used to say 'pose and re-pose', meaning that we must continually readjust our perspective on even the most fundamental things. Life is in the going, not the arriving. So recently I've taken a step back to rethink some parts of the HKE. Having found a positive and effective way of donating money, I was really getting into it. My experiments in friend-making were going great. So I stopped.
Arriving at the Sevagram ashram, I figured out why. Here they live a simple routine life (if you ignore the fact that they're living in mud huts that Gandhi built, making 90% of their own food and clothes). They get a lot of visitors that read the signs and take pictures and leave, or that stay for a day to enjoy the tranquillity and fresh food. I came here out of curiosity, and they treated me with indifference at first. Looking in the guest book I saw dozens of foreigners (although hardly any Americans) that came for a day or two - always actively seeking something (called 'peace' or 'rest'). Rather than force myself on them, I watched quietly (and often awkwardly) for the first night - the dinner routine and the evening prayer and reading. I tried to fit in where I could, took the cues I was given, and was always willing to answer a question. But I approached these people and their lives with patience and respect.
The second day, after spending the day gradually getting to know the routine and the people, I received a complement. Sanjoy, with whom I spent the afternoon, said that he thought I should travel around India more - that he felt I had an understanding of India and the Indian people that would allow me to fit in wherever I went. I made a good impression on these people - whether it was the fact that I play tabla, my willingness to work for my food, or my patient curiosity - and they've let me in. I've gotten to experience the change from being an outsider that didn't belong to being someone that was greeted with a smile and 'How are you?'.
So having taken a step back, I again eased into my role of the-guy-who-just-wants-to-help. But I've reminded myself why I'm doing this: to give a positive impression, and to wait until people offer me into their lives.
Personally, I'm very curious about where things come from. At the Ashram, I am filled with awe as I eat bread while looking out at the field where the wheat was grown, having watched them drying and grinding the grain. Or drink milk that has just been collected and boiled. In the last week, I've been asking questions with the curiosity of an insatiable three-year-old.
One day, I went with a crew of comical Gandhians on a tour of the area. We went to a museum/institute set up to raise awareness about village industry. I met a Gandhian beekeeper who was collecting the honey from some vicious bees (whose sting could kill an elephant). He found that a calm, fearless, yet patient attitude calmed the bees, and as long as he didn't fight them (with spray or nets), the bees wouldn't try to sting him. I saw and touched cotton growing, learned how it was cleaned, tried my hand at spinning, saw where they weave the fabric, and even visited a (completely organic) dye shop. We went to the Center of Science for Villages, where they are doing several very innovative things. They're experimenting with different paper-making techniques. I learned (and saw!) how paper was made: from the banana, coconut, or burlap scraps, to the pulp, to the pressing and drying, to the coloring. They do it without any chemicals here. They're developing an old style of building roofs - cheaper, stronger, safer, and more environmental than concrete - by basically arching a long stack of ceramic cups. I saw the clay, the spun ceramic, the kiln, and the final product. They were also producing simple ceramic refridgerators - large urns with a concentric basin at the opening, to be filled with cold water.
I was thoroughly enjoying myself, learning, touching, and asking. These people were combining traditional good ideas with modern good ideas, all with a do-it-yourself stipulation. Then, unbelievably, I saw something I thought only existed in my imagination: a bicycle whose chain was rerouted, via gears, to spinning a table saw. One person rides the bike, another person cuts wood. I felt like I'd seen the loch ness monster, or a purple elephant with two heads, or a giant squid.
homespun fabric drying after dyeing
ceramic 'cups' that will be fired, stacked, and arched to form a cheap but strong roof
the ceramic refridgerator, next to another natural cooler (the porous clay sweats and the evaporation cools the water inside)
what paper looks like as it is strained from watery pulp, before it is pressed and dried
the loch ness monster
part of the Sevagram crew (from left) - Sanjoy, a very helpful and wise man; Prakashbhai, who hasn't brushed his teeth or worn shoes for 20 years, and is going gently senile; Jendrabhai, a very inquisitive Gandhian who, I found out later, has written several books on Vedic Mathematics; Damyanti, Sanjoy's wife and partner; another very nice lady
B. Gandhi on Terrorism and America:
I went with Sanjoy to a nearby town, where we visited the Institute for Gandhian Studies. Sanjoy had studied there, and he took me to meet the dean, Prof. Ranjit Chaudhuri. I was curious about how Gandhi's ideas were being applied to the present, especially with regard to the global threat of terrorism. Prof. Chaudhuri had organized world-renowned workshops, taught classes, and written books on it, and I met him sitting on his bed in his pyjamas. He's a very animated and engaging man, and we had a delightful conversation.
In summary, his message to the American people is twofold: there is a non-violent solution to terrorism, and 'you Americans are too proud!' (he pointed and yelled this phrase).
First of all, terrorism is in the mind, and violence is in the mind. Terrorism is a perfect demonstration of the idea that violence only creates more violence, and violence can only be stopped by starting internally, with our minds. There will always be violence and terrorism, but we can hope to minimize and isolate it by taking away its effectiveness in causing pain and fear. There are hundreds of Saddam Hussains in the world, and we must take the power out from underneath them. Politically and culturally, there are ways of making violence ineffective. To do this, we must start with ourselves, our own minds. He told me a meditation he teaches, where you visualize your enemy and hold that idea with the idea 'I have no enemies'. Christianity has been corrupted, he said; Jesus taught we should show our enemies love, not hate. All religions teach this.
Secondly, he said, America is addicted to power. We can destroy the world many times over, but we can't create it. Modern Gandhians think we all must be world citizens, acting in the interest of the earth and all people. Americans are unaware of how they are affecting the world, and they are too proudly imposing themselves throughout. He thought our invasion of Iraq was perfect evidence of this arrogance and lack of respect for world cultures or the power of non-violence. Gandhi understood that a country must prepare itself for independence (thus the efforts in traditional sustainable living). It's really no surprise that Iraq is a mess, and there's nothing America's military power can do about it.
I told Prof. Chaudhuri about my project, and some stories. He approved. He said that the Gandhian principle on non-violence doesn't only mean refraining from destruction, it means acting creatively. To live non-violently is to act without violence and to act in a way that makes others less violent. I thought of one of my favorite quotes: 'The opposite of war isn't peace - it's creation.'
C. Sanjoy Damyanti's Alternative School:
Sanjoy and his wife, Damyanti, are Gandhian scholars. They were returning to Sevagram briefly on part of a three-week tour of India and India's Gandhian institutions. They were looking to see the state of Gandhi's teachings, in the form of NGOs, schools, ashrams, etc. They offered to show me the local organizations, and interpret, so I tagged along for a few days. Their school in Gujarat is a sort of charter school for children that 'don't fit' in the national system, although the Indian government doesn't offer them any funding. They teach Indian classical music, Vedic mathematics (part of India's rich history, recorded in the Vedas 3000 years ago), traditional organic farming methods, and other standard subjects. They do this while emphasizing Gandhi's principles of respect for life, equality of all people, humility, and simplicity. I really liked Sanjoy, especially because he was my teacher here - he explained and interpreted all the things I learned (see B). We had a moment: standing in a field as the sun was setting, he told me how Gandhi's principles of truth and non-violence are inherent in the earth, and have been resonating ever since the first flower. I believe there is wisdom there, and his hope for the future was contagious.
Sanjoy also plays tabla. I brought him to my room and we played for each other. I spontaneously put Rs. 2500 in an envelope and gave it to him. He very nearly refused it in kindness, but we both knew that it was for a good cause. He insisted that I should come and see the school, see what they were doing, and especially see the tabla students. I would like to, and perhaps I will.
posted by Luke Wolcott at 6:52 AM
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