{"id":72836,"date":"2019-03-17T11:25:12","date_gmt":"2019-03-17T10:25:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/?p=72836"},"modified":"2019-03-17T11:25:12","modified_gmt":"2019-03-17T10:25:12","slug":"all-you-need-is-love","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/?p=72836","title":{"rendered":"All You Need Is Love!"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

By Louise Guthrie<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cHow long does it take to get to the Beatles Ashram?\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n

The prompt and almost blas\u00e9 way that locals here in Rishikesh, self-styled yoga capital of the world, respond to this query suggests it\u2019s one they have become very<\/em> used to over the last 51 years. Lou and I have, by necessity, established this
\n fact as we pick our way along a slender thoroughfare running parallel with the broad silvery-green slate of the slow-moving and holy river Ganges. But shop-keepers\u2019 and traders\u2019 responses to our Beatles question vary just that bit too much to give
\n us any accurate indication as to when we might reasonably expect to reach the Fab Fours\u2019 former spiritual stomping-ground. It\u2019s turning out to be a spectacularly grey and drizzly February late-afternoon here at the foothills of the mighty Himalayas.
\n And it\u2019s also getting late. Though space may be infinite, and time is (surely) eternal, today\u2019s daylight hours are rapidly dwindling.<\/p>\n

\"Himalayas\"<\/p>\n

The Foothills of the Himalayas<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Back at our luxury Rishikesh hotel resort, we had ordered a taxi that, we were assured, would deliver us right to the portals of the fabled ashram in exchange for a mere 200 Rupees. If that seemed a bit too good to be true, it\u2019s because it was<\/em>.
\n Even though we knew that The Big Fabs\u2019 historic hangout was on the opposite side of the river, we had failed to factor in that the nearest available crossing was a pedestrian-only affair.<\/p>\n

\"ljb.jpg\"<\/p>\n

Lakshman Jhula \u2013 A Pedestrian-only Affair<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

So, it appears, had our taxi-driver, as he firmly ditched us at the end of Lakshman Jhula, an imposing iron suspension foot-bridge straddling the Ganga. (NB No skin off his nose, he still got his 200 Rupees.)<\/p>\n

\"LJ1\"<\/p>\n

Over to the East<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Undeterred, we scurried across the bridge past monkeys perched on iron handrails like furry pink-faced sentries nonchalantly guarding our passage, (although we still had to make way for the odd scooter nudging its way across this \u2018pedestrian\u2019 bridge).<\/p>\n

\"MLJ\"<\/p>\n

Keeping a Watchful Eye<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\"Monkey\"<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

(Or Not)<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Now firmly on the eastern side of the Ganga, the only thing we are<\/em> sure of \u2013 If an earlier cursory glance at the colourful, if crudely, painted Rishikesh map gracing our hotel foyer walls is anything to go by \u2013 is that the lengthy tarmac ribbon
\n we are now forced to tread is the actual \u2018Long and Winding Road\u2019 that will lead us to the ashram door. And, hopefully, it\u2019s no more than a kilometer or two away.<\/p>\n

\"Map\"<\/p>\n

The Long and Winding Road<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

After what is at least half an hour\u2019s walk \u2013 NB not so fast that we can\u2019t sporadically stop off to peruse brass Buddha, Vishnu and Ganesh deities, singing bowls and stone bracelets \u2013 a trader touting wooden tortoises, yoghurt lassi stirrers and alabaster
\n eggs informs us that the final kilometer to the Beatles Ashram will take us 35 minutes (are we going to have to crawl it uphill on hands and knees?)<\/p>\n

\"Cow\"<\/p>\n

On a Leisurely Shopping-Spree?<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Something doesn\u2019t add up here. We pause to weigh up whether it\u2019s even worth continuing our mission, given that we ideally need to be back at our hotel to rejoin our tour-group by early evening. We no doubt look like typical lost tourists, wearing, as
\n we are, flimsy blue plastic rain-macs with ill-fitting sleeves and hoods designed, if not to keep the rain off, then to slowly but surely asphyxiate the wearer. (At least that\u2019s what it feels<\/em> like.) So, on a practical whim, we have, a touch
\n incongruously, accessorized this stylish apparel with battered straw sun-hats. The fabulous designer-piece macs were originally retailing on the banks of the Holy Ganga at a near give-away 5 Rupees, until last night\u2019s Rishikesh rain-fall became so
\n heavy that an opportunistic vendor felt wholly justified in taking 50 Rupees off each of us for them. Our sun-hats hail from the UK and were never specifically intended as rain-protection.<\/p>\n

We must look a bit dazed as we stand there deliberating, because a man on a motorbike steps into the breach to offer us a ride.<\/p>\n

I trust this man on instinct, but I\u2019m not so sure about his vehicle.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill it take three of us?\u201d<\/em> I ask<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve had four on here\u201d<\/em> he replies<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got no choice, Lou\u201d<\/em> I tell her \u201cYou\u2019re small, get in the middle so you don\u2019t suddenly vanish off the back\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n

Lou hops onto the seat behind the driver without any hesitation. I pitch up at the rear, lightly taking hold of the back of our Knight-in-Shining-Armour\u2019s sleeves to (hopefully) afford us some kind of balance, but mainly to keep Lou sandwiched in. We
\n set off, if not in complete hedonistic abandon, then at least tentatively hoping for the best possible outcome to this timely offer of assistance.<\/p>\n

The track is bumpy, and, while my left leg is securely rooted on a footrest, this small step (for mankind) is a minor god-send that doesn\u2019t have a counterpart on the right side of the bike. As our motorcyclist adeptly manoeuvres around pebbly peripheries
\n of deep wide puddles, skilfully skirts around swathes of mud lacing underlying gravel, and deftly turns his vehicle around tight bends, to (sensibly) only speed up when we intermittently alight upon stretches of smooth tarmac, my right leg is without
\n anchor. I have to muster up a similar kind of core stability to that engaged during years of three-legged down-ward dog yogic posture practice. This, after all, is<\/em> the world\u2019s yoga capital, you just have to go with the flow, even if the current
\n set of challenges bears little or no resemblance to astanga vinyasa as we know it. Let\u2019s hope this ride is a short one.<\/p>\n

So far, so good, until, less than three minutes into our impromptu two-wheeled journey, Lou blurts out: \u201cHe\u2019s taking us the wrong way\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

She raises her voice: \u201cYou\u2019re going inland\u201d<\/em> (I myself have been a bit too concerned with basic balance issues to be able to focus on minutiae such as where we might actually be heading.)<\/p>\n

Our motorist could, hypothetically, be taking us anywhere he likes, to meet his \u2018friends\u2019, to completely fleece us (or even worse\u2026.), but I really don\u2019t think so.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know short-cut, Madame<\/em>\u201d he insists \u201cI take you to Bittles ashram\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Although I didn\u2019t take out any dangerous sport insurance before coming here (not sure its scope would extend to this kind of caper anyway, and wet sun-hats probably don\u2019t qualify as sensible head-gear) I did, as it happens, push out a couple of Hare Krishna
\n maha-mantras<\/em> as soon as this motorcycle set off:<\/p>\n

Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna, Krishna, Hare Hare,
\nHare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

I uttered the mantra not so much by way of cosmic accident cover, (although I don\u2019t doubt its potency), but more by force of recent personal habit. Lou and I are on a 16-day \u2018Mystic India\u2019 trip with some 20 Hare Krishna devotees, ably organised by a team
\n of stalwarts from Bhaktivedanta Manor, the UK Hare Krishna headquarters generously donated by George Harrison in 1973. NB This afternoon\u2019s little foray into the unknown is not<\/strong> a scheduled part of our tour-itinerary, it\u2019s just a side-step
\n Lou and I feel it imperative to make.<\/p>\n

\"Mantra\"<\/p>\n

The Maha Mantra<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

You see, our beloved Beatles honed their Transcendental Meditation techniques back in 1968 with Indian Guru Maharishi Mahesh Yogi at the very campus we should shortly be arriving at (if our driver is to be trusted, as I still believe he is), even if their
\n association with Maharishi was never set to be a long-term one. (Ringo was the first to leave Rishikesh, possibly because his supply of tinned baked beans was rapidly dwindling, and, as a Northern English lad, he really didn\u2019t want to have to cope
\n with any weird Indian spices.) Plus, if you believe reports, the giggling guru with the flowing beard had shown a rather non-spiritual interest in one or two ladies at the ashram, (notably blonde elfin actress Mia Farrow). And so that particular spiritual
\n bubble soon burst. However, the Beatles Indian sojourn did lead to the opening up of a cross-cultural and trans-national interchange of pretty \u2018far-out\u2019 ideas, inspiring Western people to \u2018go East\u2019, either physically or mentally. NB The Fabs wrote
\n much of their \u2018White Album\u2019 here, as well, so it wasn\u2019t all time wasted.<\/p>\n

\"WhiteAlbum\"<\/p>\n

Time Well Spent \u2013 The White Album<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Visionary George Harrison, however, was more genuinely attuned to Eastern Mysticism (and, presumably, less genetically Heinz baked-bean dependent) than any of his band-mates. In the wake of his summer stopover with Maharishi, George went on to make a
\n sincere and life-long commitment to what became internationally known as the Hare Krishna movement (the same burgeoning crusade that has brought Lou and I to India). The far-seeing Fab had discovered the Hare Krishna maha mantra<\/em> as early
\n as the mid-1960s, when Swami Bhaktivedanta, ISKCON\u2019s (International Society for Krishna Consciousness) founding father, first brought it from India to the US. By the time Swami Bhaktivedanta\u2019s special six young pioneering disciples reached UK shores
\n to set up the first Hare Krishna temple in good old London Town, the Quiet Beatle had already been chanting the maha mantra<\/em> for a couple of years. And when Swami himself arrived in England, something clicked, and he and George became friends.<\/p>\n

\u201cI once chanted the Hare Krishna mantra for three days while driving round Europe\u201d <\/em>said George \u201cYou get hypnotised on some subtle level that makes you feel so good, you don\u2019t want to stop\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n

My intrepid Mystic India 2019 tour companions (who I do<\/em> hope to see again in this life-time, preferably this evening back at our hotel) and I have, in recent days, been reciting that self-same mantra in the holy town of Vrindavan, where Krishna
\n spend his childhood. We chanted it in the pilgrimage city of Mayapur, home to world ISKCON-Headquarters, and while passing through Delhi and Kolkata, in airports and aeroplanes, busses and rickshaws. Upon arrival here in Rishikesh, we spontaneously
\n took the maha mantra<\/em> to the streets in musical format as a merry band of minstrels complete with Indian percussion instruments.<\/p>\n

\"MIT\"<\/p>\n

Mystic India Trippers<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

So I must be, at the very least, peripherally qualified to casually offer up this time-tested refrain once or twice on the back of this here somewhat beat-up bike.<\/p>\n

According to George: \u201cYou don\u2019t have to ask the vicar about this, because it all becomes clear with the expanded state of consciousness. But you don\u2019t get it in five minutes. It\u2019s something that takes a long time. So it\u2019s really\u2026 It\u2019s like to give peace a chance, or all you need is love. The thing is, you can\u2019t just stand there and say, love, love, love or peace, peace, peace and get it. You have to have a direct process of attaining that. Like Christ said, \u2018Put your own house in order.\u2019 Maharishi said, \u2018For a forest to be green, each tree must be green.\u2019 So the same for the world to have peace, each individual must have peace. And you don\u2019t get it through society\u2019s normal channels. And that\u2019s why each individual must tend to himself and get his own peace.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\"tn\"<\/p>\n

 On To Something<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

That\u2019s deep, George, and there\u2019s no vicar around here to ask anyway. And I definitely haven\u2019t reached a state of expanded consciousness (it\u2019s not that easy on the back of a scooter with only one footrest) let alone found long-term peace, although, in
\n the short-term, this is<\/em> quite fun. Nevertheless, I am deeply grateful when, before too long, we grind to a halt in front turreted gates that are reassuringly overgrown with weeds and grasses. My not entirely misplaced yogic chanting seems
\n to have worked. This looks like it could well be an out-dated ashram, we have not been mugged, and there are enough harmless-looking people meandering around to dispel even the mildest sense of (unnecessary) foreboding. But my sense of relief is mainly
\n founded on the fact that, being now ever-so slightly right-leaning, I almost certainly could not have remained seated with any great dignity and composure for too much longer.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s all looking good, except for the fact that the site entrance is clearly emblazoned with the words TIGER RESERVE.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve brought us to the wrong place\u201d<\/em> I protest<\/p>\n

In spite of the huge TIGER RESERVE signs, our make-shift chauffeur insists this really is<\/em> the ashram we\u2019ve been looking for. It\u2019s now ten-to-four in the afternoon, and, not wishing to waste any more precious time discussing the *subtle semantic
\n differences between the two, let\u2019s face it, near-identical descriptive terms \u2018Beatles Ashram\u2019 and \u2018Tiger Reserve\u2019, we ask this chap to come and pick us up again at half-past. (This is India, and *we cannot afford to stall over niceties.)<\/p>\n

\"Door\"<\/p>\n

Enter if you Dare<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

I tell him he can have 100 Rupees when he returns collect us. He tells me I can pay him now. I do so on good faith (he\u2019ll come back anyway because he, presumably, wants more money off us), and we stumble through the TIGER RESERVE gateway in the vague
\n hope that it is, in fact, the Beatles Ashram. We are not disappointed. Not only are there no (visibly) roaming tigers, but there\u2019s enough signage around to indicate that this is exactly the place we\u2019ve been looking for. A warden takes 500 Rupees each
\n off us for \u2018Foreigners\u2019 entry tickets. We\u2019ve only got forty short minutes in the rain to get a feel for what this place must have been like in its gloriously endless-seeming summery 1968 hey-day, when George and Pattie Boyd, Paul and Jane Asher, John
\n and Cynthia, plus Ringo and Maureen came to pursue what was, back then, a ground-breaking quest for enlightenment.<\/p>\n

\"OctopusGarden\"<\/p>\n

Octopus\u2019 Garden<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Today there\u2019s no way we can properly explore an entire collection of dilapidated buildings that now brandish dark gaping hollows where once stood doors and windows, and roofs which look like they are about to cave in, interspersed with odd-looking circular pebble-dashed huts (meditation pods?) that are more than vaguely reminiscent of hairy coconuts as stubborn weeds force themselves en masse through the stones. <\/span><\/p>\n

\"HC\"<\/p>\n

Hairy Coconuts<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Lou and I rush straight into a decaying bungalow which, while obviously having seen far better days, still proudly houses a stunning exhibition of Summer \u201968 photographs by one Paul Saltzman<\/a> \u2013 some of
\n which have already been etched indelibly on my white European retinas for decades.<\/p>\n

\"16-The-Beatles-in-Rishikesh1-1\"<\/p>\n

Indelibly etched <\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

It\u2019s amazing to finally see them \u2018in situ\u2019. Shame though that no-one has thought to invest in a light-bulb for this place. Because on a dull late-afternoon like this you struggle to see much more than your own hazy mirror-image through the prism of windows reflected inside the frame of a timeless Beatles\u2019 portrait.<\/span><\/p>\n

Peering through the Windows of Time<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

\"Window\"<\/p>\n

In Sun-Hat and Rain-Mac<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Although the entire compound\u2019s general state of disrepair could simply be construed as sad, it can also, depending on your perspective, be seen as flawless. This sprawling and authentic monument to East-meets-West stands unsullied by anything other than
\n time, and bears testimony to how slowly but surely nature reclaims her own territory. What could be more perfect than that?<\/p>\n

\"Lou1\"<\/p>\n

Not the Summer of 68<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

But even if we are not about to hurry straight to our banks and ask for loans to convert it all into boutique hotels, Lou and I feel there are residual mysterious energy fields here that could be put to good use \u2013 not necessarily to send New Age wannabe yogis flying across the room \u2013 but, we muse, wouldn\u2019t it make a glorious site for an extensive ISKCON-centre?<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Bhavan\"<\/p>\n

Mysterious Energy Fields<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

We are allowed to dream, after all. And even though time is now really<\/em> working against us, we manage to crowbar in a flying visit to a lodge in the farthest back corner of the compound that served as temporary home to Fabs and friends just over
\n half a century ago.<\/p>\n

\"Saptpuri\"<\/p>\n

Perfect as it is?<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

We then scuttle hastily back to the TIGER RESERVE entrance (only five minutes late!) to see if our driver has thought fit to come and collect us.<\/p>\n

We stagger back through the front gateway and there, as promised, stands our trusty fellow with his motorbike.<\/p>\n

He whizzes us back to the spot where he first found us. We need to give him another 100 Rupees, I guess, but we have no change. \u201cYou can go and get change in the temple\u201d<\/em> our man tells us, nodding perfunctorily towards a nearby house of God. I
\n had no idea that temples took on this particular functionality, but the incumbent curator has no qualms about opening a safe-box and furnishing us with notes of smaller denomination, even if he seems to be doing this in extreme slow-motion.<\/p>\n

When I (eventually) return outdoors, our driver friend is deeply engrossed in conversation with other locals. I interrupt to hand him the 100 Rupees.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u201d<\/em> I say \u201cThat was good business, wasn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He ignores my question and, instead, gives me a long searching look.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you happy?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPardon?\u201d <\/em>I say<\/p>\n

\u201cWas it the right place?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u201d<\/em> I reply \u201cIt was absolutely the right place. I am happy\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cIs your friend happy?\u201d<\/em> he asks, looking even more concerned<\/p>\n

I turn to ask Lou, who is coming towards us across the temple forecourt<\/p>\n

\u201cLou, he wants to know if you\u2019re happy\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Lou grins cursorily<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u201d<\/em> I tell him \u201cMy friend is happy\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

And, having confirmed our relative state of happiness to a virtual stranger, we turn to head back to the Lakshman Jhula suspension bridge, in leaking blue macs and sagging straw sun-hats\u2026.<\/p>\n

Source: https:\/\/goo.gl\/UGD1mG<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Louise Guthrie<\/strong><\/p>\n

My intrepid Mystic India 2019 tour companions and I have, in recent days, been reciting that self-same mantra in the holy town of Vrindavan, where Krishna spend his childhood. We chanted it in the pilgrimage city of Mayapur, home to world ISKCON-Headquarters, and while passing through Delhi and Kolkata, in airports and aeroplanes, busses and rickshaws. Upon arrival here in Rishikesh, we spontaneously took the maha mantra to the streets in musical format as a merry band of minstrels complete with Indian percussion instruments. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-72836","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articles"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/72836","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=72836"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/72836\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":72839,"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/72836\/revisions\/72839"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=72836"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=72836"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dandavats.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=72836"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}