Just after Ila waved good bye from the back of her taxi, nervousness, loneliness and fear kicked in. I was after all a twenty-six year old woman traveling alone in a foreign country where I hardly spoke the language and soon, I was going to be in the company of people I have never met before. The second part of my trip just began and seven days was a long time. Soon after, I hopped into a taxi myself and headed to the monastery. Oddly enough, I met this taxi driver for the second time in my trip and it felt somewhat comforting to see a familiar face in the sea of foreign faces and have him take me to Gurjudhara, Kathmandu. By now, I was an expert in negotiating taxi fares before the trip. That's an important skill to get around here and asking for the fare after a trip is a sure way to get one into trouble.
The monk who I was introduced to
through a mutual acquaintance and with whom I have been in touch by
email (though I am not entirely sure how much of what I typed was
understood by this monk), was waiting for me at the gate. The
monastery was built in the heart of a small Newari village in the
outskirts of Kathmandu. The villagers seemed to have the basic
facilities of water and electricity but the roads were still under
construction at the time of my visit. The older generations looked
and dressed in more traditional clothes, while the younger
generations were dressed less conservatively and most of them seemed to
work in the city doing 'modern' jobs in offices and shops.
After exchanging greetings, I was given
a brief tour of the site. The monastery consisted of four separate
buildings. One with the kitchen/ dining area with attached nuns'
quarters, one partially completed building with a few guest rooms,
other a shrine for devotees to carry out their rituals, and another
farthest away was the monks' quarters. He explained to me that with
the generous foreign funds they received, they were building a
polyclinic with diagnostic equipment for the villagers. A hospital
was no where close by and healthcare facilities in the village were
very poor so a free polyclinic when completed and one which had
dental and x-ray equipment would prove to be very useful for several
villages in the area. The clinic was to be manned by volunteer
doctors from the city.
I was introduced to the other
inhabitants in the monastery - two nuns, two men and one elderly
woman who helped out. There was yet another mostly bedridden elderly
woman, who I was told was the relative of one of the nuns. Only the
two nuns and the monk understood my English, that too, not perfectly.
Communication with the rest of them was mostly in gestures and shy
smiles. I was at first surprised to see monks and nuns living in the
same monastery as this was unheard of in my country, where strict
segregation was practiced. They cooked, dined and carried out
religious services for the public together, much like a family. Even
the monks and nuns looking after lay people, as in this case where
they looked after a sick elderly woman and cooked for the others in
the temple, was a huge contrast to me. During my stay, I was deeply
embarrassed to have them cook and serve food for me, when my mind was
conditioned to think otherwise. I had only known a tradition where
lay people looked after needs of the monks and nuns, who were then
free to follow their mental development, do their studies, practices
and did the religious duties to the public that were expected of
them. Here, they were more independent, managing nearly everything an
ordinary lay person managed including finances and looking after
their parents, siblings and relatives who lived close by in the same
village. It is understandable that given the reality here, where the
villagers were not within their means to feed the monks and nuns on a
regular basis and where the monsoons and cold weather made it hard to
get around in some periods of the year, they had to be
self-sufficient.
Rules laid out in holy texts evolve and
change when fused with the reality of existing cultural traditions in
a given area. The success of a philosophy in a new geography also
depends in it's flexibility to merge harmoniously with the culture
while being able to uphold the core virtues that it teaches. This was
a perfect example. In this close-knit Newari village as well as most
parts of Nepal, the lines separating Buddhism and Hinduism have long
been blurred by thousands of years of change, invasions and political
causes and they now follow a mixture of both. Even the Buddhism
followed here had the markings of both Tibetan and Theravada
traditions. Everyone here celebrates the Hindu and Buddhist festivals
alike. The influences are clearly seen in their art and architecture
where statues of deities sit with Buddha statues. Religious customs
involving both were seen in their festivals, funerals and other
events in the village. The monk explained that they even carried out
Buddhist rituals in festivals of Hindu origins. He might have noticed
my initial attempt to try to draw a line and understand which parts
were was Hinduism and which ones Buddhism and he said it was
impossible to do that now.
The clergy play an important role in
the society here. It is common for parents in poorer countries to
give away a child from their large brood to the village temple for
ordination as a monk when they can't afford to feed or educate them. In addition to being guaranteed
food, lodging, safety, healthcare, moral guidance and a good
education, all funded by the temple and benefactors, they are content
to have their child follow a noble profession – one that is
essential in undeveloped or developing areas. There are also those who voluntarily take up robes
to fulfill a life of service to others, while closely following a
spiritual path. Most monks get opportunities to go abroad and do
their further studies and this is comparable to getting a scholarship
with a bond that requires them to do social work and serve the
public afterwards. With this system, they meet many friends and mentors who are
also monks from different countries and they also meet many lay people
during their experiences. With these connections, they are able to
guide and help many other people and bring about change and
development in areas of society that sometimes governments and NGOs
don't reach otherwise. The system and religious order in place for
Buddhist monks and their roles in society are more established than
the ones for nuns. Roles of women in child bearing and looking after
household duties, physical limitations and well as safety concerns
might be the main reasons for this.
The monks and nuns at
this temple were all educated in
countries such as Sri Lanka, Taiwan and China and had returned to
their village to take up their respective roles. They were quite
learned, with skills in speaking multiple languages as well having
exposure in different countries. During my short stay, I noticed
villagers coming to the temple to see these monks and nuns with
various intentions - to perform rituals, ask for advice and spiritual
guidance or sometimes even ask for small favours. The villagers had a
curious custom of giving small coins or small currency notes to the
monks and nuns every time they saw them, even up to twice a day
sometimes.
A cozy room with an attached bathroom
It'll be hard to forget those freeeezing nights!
I was given a nice cozy room with an
attached bathroom. In the past five days, I was not able to shower at
all – I was mostly sick, out of the hotel and some of the rooms
didn't have hot water. Also, I was afraid that a cold shower wound exacerbating my cough and the phlegm in my lungs and spoil the rest of my trip. Well, the
feeling of living with unwashed hair all these days was beyond disgusting.
Hot water was available and was powered by solar panels on the roof.
So the first thing I did in my room was to take a nice, long shower.
Damn, that felt like the best shower I ever had! I had loads of
megabytes of data and an unstable internet connection on my phone,
which allowed me to check my email (not that there was anything
pressing), Skype with my parents and chat with friends on MSN
Messenger. It was also during this time that I wrote my postcards to
several friends. I love to write, and even more so in the old fashioned
way of posting letters, cards and postcards. The practice is a little
outdated now and overshadowed by more efficient electronic means of communication. Call me old fashioned, but nothing electronic can beat the personal touch of a handpicked and handwritten letter or a card and the surprise of receiving it by post! Despite having several layers of clothing, a blanket
and two thick quilts, I suffered from the cold every night. I didn't
know that two thick quilts can feel as cold as hugging a dead body
when my body wasn't able to generate enough heat.
There was a sickly old woman, probably
in her nineties living next door. Her spine was bent to form a right
angle and although she spent most of her time in bed, I often heard
her dragging herself and her chair a few yards out of the room to sit
in the balcony and bask in the morning sun to keep warm. Every time
she moved an arm or a leg, she shouted in pain. It was painful to
watch. Often when I passed by her room and she was shouting, I would
peep in. When she saw me, she desperately tried to ask for things,
but it was impossible to understand her. Couple of times we had
success using sign language and I managed to close her windows for
her and bring her cup of water closer to her, but most times, I had
to leave her there with nothing much I can do. She was fed and
cleaned on time by one of the nuns, but the rest of the time, no one
watched over her. A life like that - helpless, dirty, painful, sad,
lonely – I wish I can avoid. I doubt she survived the winter that
ensued.
The nuns checked on me regularly and
saw to it that was I comfortable with hot water, snacks and books to
read. They called me during meal times and I would make my way to the
kitchen, to enjoy the extremely warm and delicious vegetarian food
they cooked. Every meal was accompanied by a cup of warm fresh cow's
milk. It tasted so fresh that it was tasty even without sugar.
The food they ate was very simple, fresh and healthy. Breakfast was
usually porridge, bread or chapatis. Lunch was usually the
popular dhal bhaat – rice with lentil curry, mixed vegetable
curry, greens, raw raddish, onions and pappads. Gosh, that was
divine, cooked with goodness knows what combination of spices. Dinner
was mostly light, either instant noodles or chapati with
leftover curries from lunch. The monk explained that although one of
the basic 'commandments' for Buddhist monks and nuns was abstaining
from heavy food after noon (meaning no dinner), they had to be
healthy enough to do more domestic activities than the average monk
as well as have more energy to keep warm in cold temperatures and
approaching winter. True enough, such rules were applicable to monks
who didn't engage much in physical activity and spent more time in
meditation and minimal food intake was recommended so that they
didn't take more calories than what their lifestyle required.
The monk and nuns took turns to cook,
with a larger responsibility shouldered by the nuns. This was still a
patriarchal society. There was also an elderly lady who helped out in
the kitchen and dined with us at mealtimes. We exchanged a lot of
smiles and often sat together huddled near the electric heater but we
were unable to converse at all. After a day of observing how things
ran in the kitchen, I soon tried to make myself useful in the kitchen
by helping to set up the table and forced them to let me help by
cutting vegetables, cleaning and washing some of the dishes. They
were reluctant at first but they must have sensed my despair at not
feeling useful so they gave me small jobs. Washing the dishes, which
I did voluntarily, in ice cold water was extremely excruciating when
the fingers went blue and numb for awhile but doing other small jobs
were enjoyable and felt gratifying. During meal times, we all sat in
the same table and ate together, again uncommon for a clergy-layman
relationship back home. It was a good time to ask questions and
discuss traveling plans with them. They were good humoured and it was
not too hard to make conversation. I arrived in Nepal with strong
intent to stay true to myself and eat left-handed. But in this
foreign place where culturally it was not acceptable to do so and
armed with poor communication skills to do any complex explaining to
my courteous hosts, I took the pains to eat with my right hand. It
was hard to keep at it in the beginning and grasping food and eating took much longer. I had
to be extra mindful of using my right hand to accept food from them because it was considered rude otherwise.
Overall this small community was a
peaceful and well-functioning one. But it hit me that perhaps they
spent too much time doing domestic activities and being caught up in
worldly issues – the very things that are to be avoided when taking
up the life of a monk or nun - that they had very little time for
their own self-reflection, spiritual development or study. I suppose it is easier for me to say.
In the next few days, I would tour with
them in different parts of Nepal as well as stay in the monastery on
and off.
