Letters from India... First Impressions and a Quest
February came into one’s life and left, leaving behind colourful marks on the pink mat of one’s memory. It was a month of many upheavals, changes and moves. We made a shift (husband and I) from hotel to what we now call our home, in Sarvodaya Enclave. This enclave is 5 minutes walk away from the Sri Aurobindo Ashram - Delhi Branch. The close proximity was a boon and a comfort. I look forward to hours of bliss just measuring the grounds of the Ashram.
In my desire to devote a part of my daily work to doing something or other on the grounds of the Ashram, if at all I could, in an abode that particularly reverberated with His name and fame, where there was a collective aspiration rising up towards Him, the trip to the Ashram was made on a cold Tuesday morning on the 31st of January and then into the precinct of Mirambika. I was wondering if the good fortune of practicing my so called ‘profession’ in New Delhi would arise and if at all possible, in Mirambika itself. The night before, an invitation was extended, soon after dinner on the 30th of January. I was to explore possibilities of engagement in work at Mirambika, at 8.30am the next day.
The mist was still around as we set off from the hotel. We got off at the Ashram half an hour later. The morning felt colder within the precincts. Having paid our respects at Sri Aurobindo’s shrine, we ventured forth to the meditation hall to sit in silent contemplation for a few minutes. A pleasant surprise awaited us.
We entered through the small wooden doorway to the accompaniment of the rhythmic beats of the tabla and soothing strains from the harmonium. And what followed next as we took our seats on the carpeted floor was Karuna Didi’s rendition of a devotional song on Sri Saraswati, a rendition that was projected from deep within her. This person, it felt, dived deep down into her self and descended (or ascended?) into some kind of communion within and appeared to be in a state of forgetfulness, and yet every word, the shruti, every note was rendered with unwavering strength. This had the power of penetrating deep into one’s being, leading it to plunge into the world of contemplation or meditation. While lost somewhere deep inside, she gave herself, it seemed, to the Divine whom she was addressing with her singing. Thus, she was able to break something within one listener and allow a tiny ray of light to penetrate through and do its work. What heart-rending, soulful rendition of a musical offering to the Divine! How she lost herself from the beginning to the end of each piece and how she had us all with her, held together, bound in our quest for the Life Divine! Again, a sense of gratitude arose from within at such austerities bestowed upon one.
8.30am was nearing and Mirambika was waiting. I proceeded towards Mirambika, taking the natural path, without cutting through the polygonal Ashram building before us. The path that led towards Mirambika from the Ashram was wide enough for three people to walk comfortably. Little creepers ran alongside the path for some distance. These creepers bore bright orange flowers that appeared like saffron robed monks lining the pathway for some distance. Then two unusual plants stood erect above the rest, along the path, bearing large leaves that were of a deep purple. They were pronouncing their presence with quiet confidence. Could they be purple cabbage leaves yet to curl up into their characteristic world? Later, one found out that those were rye plants. They seemed to be adding on leaf after leaf by the day. In no time, within a span of one week, I noticed that they were already in flower, the flowers appearing a brilliant lemon yellow against the backdrop of purple leaves. What a brilliant combination thought out by Nature! The path soon opened up. Some construction work was going on at one of the wings of the Ashram building. Soon the block that houses the Matri provision store was visible. On the right, there was a huge gate, a side entrance into the Ashram that opened into the car park. From this point onwards, going straight, one enters the Sunlit Path which circumambulates the two schools, Mirambika and The Mother’s International School, in a huge circle.
Sri Aurobindo’s grand statue stood guard over the huge compound comprising the schools, the paths and the common field. The Sunlit Path was a wide tarred path that could accommodate at once about 5 people walking side by side. The sides were lined with lily plants and small trees together with shrubs and other herbs. The sun was up further in the sky and the mist had cleared. The rays of the morning Sun were streaming through the leaves of the young trees lining the path, throwing their golden light onto the path. Their leaves threw little oval shadows in between. The path appeared to be littered with golden flakes of light. Little squirrels were hurrying and scurrying in utmost busyness across the path, going about their morning routine of feeding and collecting. The morning was still cold. Adding to the cold, a light breeze was blowing. The path continued on. Mirambika was on the left of the path and further down, one entered the building.
The next half an hour saw exchanges with the principal of the school, Kamala Didi. She had cropped hair and her posture was erect. She carried herself, like the Rye plant, with quiet confidence. There was an air of certitude and humility, all rolled into one, about her. My respect for this lady extended itself without being expressed in any audible forms. I admired in her some resolve that was at play with a good amount of flexibility to let things take their course. Mirambika needed leaders of a certain make. Perhaps I was looking at one such make. She led me on a tour of the school, painstakingly explaining whatever needed to be explained. Her keen eyes did not miss anything, be it objects needing some attention or children passing along for the moment or facilitators who had to be told one thing or the other.
Happy children, involved in the activities of the moment, were a refreshing sight. To be in a school environment again felt good. The school carried with it its own particular brand of sounds - facilitators’ voices from various rooms, children’s prattle, recitation, happy chatter and the occasional shouting or screaming of kids at play. These sights and sounds are part and parcel of any school. Mirambika had all of these. More than that, I saw babes of about four at work in classrooms. It was heart-warming to see them reciting mantras, engrossed in drawing and colouring, doing pattern work or clutching at a facilitator’s hands, pulling him or her around, or seated on the lap of another, being encouraged or cajoled, hugged and simply, loved. The older kids were moving across the blocks independently, up to some work or other. Some were seated at open terraces that smiled gregariously with the blooms of bougainvillea, or with their teachers, engaged in discussions. Many were out in the field as well, playing games. Some were seriously practising a drama piece or a song for the grand performance of the year on Thanksgiving Day, which falls on 24th March 2006.
I was welcomed into the school as a volunteer facilitator. The education system here followed the free progress method based on Sri Aurobindo’s and the Mother’s concept of integral education, Kamala Didi explained. I realized that being in this system meant a way of living that looked deeper into one’s being. One couldn’t be a facilitator without being an observant spectator of one’s own being and its growth as well as an active participant willing the transformation of all that has to be transformed therein. The inner growth and the facilitation cannot be looked upon in isolation. Mirambika, more than any other place, appeared to be a huge field of experiment as well as the breeding ground of a quiet revolution. It seemed to me, in this school, what happened in the NOW and how it was carried out was of supreme importance, of more value than anything of the past or the future.
So began for me an episode of schooling in the methods of Integral Education, from the practitioners themselves. As a starter, I have had the good fortune of working with an enthusiastic group of eight trainee teachers, exploring biological concepts. Being in an environment that practices free progress, absorbing all that goes on, interacting with the facilitators, trainees, children, not to mention the school’s cockerel, rabbits and a new-found goat named Lali has had its effects. The marks of the stamp await scrutiny, as each hour unfolds. - Jayanthy (10 March 2006)
February came into one’s life and left, leaving behind colourful marks on the pink mat of one’s memory. It was a month of many upheavals, changes and moves. We made a shift (husband and I) from hotel to what we now call our home, in Sarvodaya Enclave. This enclave is 5 minutes walk away from the Sri Aurobindo Ashram - Delhi Branch. The close proximity was a boon and a comfort. I look forward to hours of bliss just measuring the grounds of the Ashram.
In my desire to devote a part of my daily work to doing something or other on the grounds of the Ashram, if at all I could, in an abode that particularly reverberated with His name and fame, where there was a collective aspiration rising up towards Him, the trip to the Ashram was made on a cold Tuesday morning on the 31st of January and then into the precinct of Mirambika. I was wondering if the good fortune of practicing my so called ‘profession’ in New Delhi would arise and if at all possible, in Mirambika itself. The night before, an invitation was extended, soon after dinner on the 30th of January. I was to explore possibilities of engagement in work at Mirambika, at 8.30am the next day.
The mist was still around as we set off from the hotel. We got off at the Ashram half an hour later. The morning felt colder within the precincts. Having paid our respects at Sri Aurobindo’s shrine, we ventured forth to the meditation hall to sit in silent contemplation for a few minutes. A pleasant surprise awaited us.
We entered through the small wooden doorway to the accompaniment of the rhythmic beats of the tabla and soothing strains from the harmonium. And what followed next as we took our seats on the carpeted floor was Karuna Didi’s rendition of a devotional song on Sri Saraswati, a rendition that was projected from deep within her. This person, it felt, dived deep down into her self and descended (or ascended?) into some kind of communion within and appeared to be in a state of forgetfulness, and yet every word, the shruti, every note was rendered with unwavering strength. This had the power of penetrating deep into one’s being, leading it to plunge into the world of contemplation or meditation. While lost somewhere deep inside, she gave herself, it seemed, to the Divine whom she was addressing with her singing. Thus, she was able to break something within one listener and allow a tiny ray of light to penetrate through and do its work. What heart-rending, soulful rendition of a musical offering to the Divine! How she lost herself from the beginning to the end of each piece and how she had us all with her, held together, bound in our quest for the Life Divine! Again, a sense of gratitude arose from within at such austerities bestowed upon one.
8.30am was nearing and Mirambika was waiting. I proceeded towards Mirambika, taking the natural path, without cutting through the polygonal Ashram building before us. The path that led towards Mirambika from the Ashram was wide enough for three people to walk comfortably. Little creepers ran alongside the path for some distance. These creepers bore bright orange flowers that appeared like saffron robed monks lining the pathway for some distance. Then two unusual plants stood erect above the rest, along the path, bearing large leaves that were of a deep purple. They were pronouncing their presence with quiet confidence. Could they be purple cabbage leaves yet to curl up into their characteristic world? Later, one found out that those were rye plants. They seemed to be adding on leaf after leaf by the day. In no time, within a span of one week, I noticed that they were already in flower, the flowers appearing a brilliant lemon yellow against the backdrop of purple leaves. What a brilliant combination thought out by Nature! The path soon opened up. Some construction work was going on at one of the wings of the Ashram building. Soon the block that houses the Matri provision store was visible. On the right, there was a huge gate, a side entrance into the Ashram that opened into the car park. From this point onwards, going straight, one enters the Sunlit Path which circumambulates the two schools, Mirambika and The Mother’s International School, in a huge circle.
Sri Aurobindo’s grand statue stood guard over the huge compound comprising the schools, the paths and the common field. The Sunlit Path was a wide tarred path that could accommodate at once about 5 people walking side by side. The sides were lined with lily plants and small trees together with shrubs and other herbs. The sun was up further in the sky and the mist had cleared. The rays of the morning Sun were streaming through the leaves of the young trees lining the path, throwing their golden light onto the path. Their leaves threw little oval shadows in between. The path appeared to be littered with golden flakes of light. Little squirrels were hurrying and scurrying in utmost busyness across the path, going about their morning routine of feeding and collecting. The morning was still cold. Adding to the cold, a light breeze was blowing. The path continued on. Mirambika was on the left of the path and further down, one entered the building.
The next half an hour saw exchanges with the principal of the school, Kamala Didi. She had cropped hair and her posture was erect. She carried herself, like the Rye plant, with quiet confidence. There was an air of certitude and humility, all rolled into one, about her. My respect for this lady extended itself without being expressed in any audible forms. I admired in her some resolve that was at play with a good amount of flexibility to let things take their course. Mirambika needed leaders of a certain make. Perhaps I was looking at one such make. She led me on a tour of the school, painstakingly explaining whatever needed to be explained. Her keen eyes did not miss anything, be it objects needing some attention or children passing along for the moment or facilitators who had to be told one thing or the other.
Happy children, involved in the activities of the moment, were a refreshing sight. To be in a school environment again felt good. The school carried with it its own particular brand of sounds - facilitators’ voices from various rooms, children’s prattle, recitation, happy chatter and the occasional shouting or screaming of kids at play. These sights and sounds are part and parcel of any school. Mirambika had all of these. More than that, I saw babes of about four at work in classrooms. It was heart-warming to see them reciting mantras, engrossed in drawing and colouring, doing pattern work or clutching at a facilitator’s hands, pulling him or her around, or seated on the lap of another, being encouraged or cajoled, hugged and simply, loved. The older kids were moving across the blocks independently, up to some work or other. Some were seated at open terraces that smiled gregariously with the blooms of bougainvillea, or with their teachers, engaged in discussions. Many were out in the field as well, playing games. Some were seriously practising a drama piece or a song for the grand performance of the year on Thanksgiving Day, which falls on 24th March 2006.
I was welcomed into the school as a volunteer facilitator. The education system here followed the free progress method based on Sri Aurobindo’s and the Mother’s concept of integral education, Kamala Didi explained. I realized that being in this system meant a way of living that looked deeper into one’s being. One couldn’t be a facilitator without being an observant spectator of one’s own being and its growth as well as an active participant willing the transformation of all that has to be transformed therein. The inner growth and the facilitation cannot be looked upon in isolation. Mirambika, more than any other place, appeared to be a huge field of experiment as well as the breeding ground of a quiet revolution. It seemed to me, in this school, what happened in the NOW and how it was carried out was of supreme importance, of more value than anything of the past or the future.
So began for me an episode of schooling in the methods of Integral Education, from the practitioners themselves. As a starter, I have had the good fortune of working with an enthusiastic group of eight trainee teachers, exploring biological concepts. Being in an environment that practices free progress, absorbing all that goes on, interacting with the facilitators, trainees, children, not to mention the school’s cockerel, rabbits and a new-found goat named Lali has had its effects. The marks of the stamp await scrutiny, as each hour unfolds. - Jayanthy (10 March 2006)
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