Into the Woods

Indian ashrams are world famous (Indian ashrams, Tibetan monasteries, Italian cathedrals). The word "ashram" means "protection," which actually isn't as religious in nature as I originally expected.

In modern terms, an ashram is a nature camp where a saint (or guru) and his devotees dedicate themselves to the principles of higher living, whatever they define those principles to be.
Ashrams (particularly those dedicated to yoga) have become wildly popular with Americans on a spiritual sabbatical from the pressures of life. I don't mean to put those people down, because what they gain from the experience is no doubt worth it.

When I went to my first ashram, my goals were not very lofty. I almost didn't make it. My parents dragged me out of bed at 6 am, while I was still protesting and dreaming and clinging to the air conditioned breezes that wafted through my bedroom. I resigned myself to a morning of being lectured to by a self-important sanyaasi who'd given up his diamond fortune (theoretically, anyway) and now got his kicks preaching enlightenment to anyone within range. (I've been to many lectures and they've never delivered more than cursory insight, perhaps my expectations are too high?)

The Belur Math ashram unfolds from a single entryway. Photography is not permitted inside, but entry is free. The devotees maintain the green fabric of the lawn, which stretches under gardens of trees, past benches set in shade, to a vast red-stone temple. Anyone can enter the long, high-ceilinged temple so long as they remove their shoes and keep silent. Inside, a pandit distributes water, but his real duty is to chastise anyone who raises his voice. Or speaks at all.
I did not know what to do this in completely silent temple, where there were no prayers to be recited or lectures to be listened to. I sat with rows of silent meditators in the back and schooled my mind to thoughts of a religious (or at least righteous) nature. Ten minutes later I got up and slipped out.

Devotees maintain smaller, immaculate shrines to various gurus around the central temple. Along the far side of the campus a series of steps goes down to the Ganga. A sign says clothes washing in the holy waters is strictly prohibited, but people wash their clothes in droves.

Swami Vivekananda, one of the most famous Swamis of Hindu lore and the man who brought yoga to the Western world, spent his last years at this retreat, blessing it by his presence. (Vivekananda's 1893 speech in Chicago can be found here, it is lovely oratory but it made me sad, perhaps because Vivekananda's dream of a world without fanataticism has proven so unattainable in the twenty-first century)

The ashram is very pretty, and it's also very clean. If cleanliness is next to Godliness, then this small territory must be nearly divine. It serves as the headquarters of the worldwide Ramakrishna Mission. The Mission emphasizes the unity of world religions (although other religions might disagree with this) and also that God listens to sincere prayers.