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A Heart Warming Gift – A Little Bit Goes A Very Long Way
by: Tulshi Maharjan

Last November I made a somewhat sudden decision to go to Nepal, meaning to Kathmandu where I grew up, to celebrate Kija Pooja (Bhai Tika).  It had already been seven long years since I visited Kathmandu and seen my siblings, their children and, of course, their grandchildren.  My parents have passed on.  I had only a few days to purchase the airline ticket and, of course, it was nearly impossible to get the ticket. During the Kija Pooja time, there is a high demand as many Nepalese living abroad from around the world converge into Nepal to participate in this highly colorful season full of festivities, designed by our ancestors probably to celebrate the harvest season and give thanks to our Gods and Goddesses. The time of the year is called Swunty (Tihar) and brings back wonderful memories of my childhood and unquestionably for me the most pleasant, and beautiful among festivals we celebrate during the whole year. It is like Christmas and Thanksgiving celebrations in the US rolled up into one.

I had only six days to immerse myself in this magnificent ancient festivity, literally elbow my way through impossible crowds in Asan and Wonga (Indra Chowk) and the like and see scores of my relatives and visit all the major temples and shrines there. Of course, regrettably this is not the Kathmandu I had left, now more than forty years ago, and definitely not the Kathmandu I knew growing up as a young boy when taxis meant a few surplus Jeeps from the World War II era you could count in your hand, parked on either side of Nhu Satak (New Road) near Wonga (Indra Chowk).  The traffic police stationed at the Nhu Satak crossroad by the statue near Damkal (Fire Truck place near Bhugol Park and Jan Seva Cinema Hall), unfailingly barked at us youngsters in a threatening voice reminding us to walk on the side walk ( -Peti baata hiend) and scared us all.

I proceeded with my hasty preparation to be in Kathmandu to celebrate Kija Pooja and receive blessings from my sisters, thus Kija Pooja or Pooja of the brothers by our sisters praying for long life and happiness. At the same time I also made a decision to visit Shree BalKumari Secondary School near Yala (Patan) where we have been supporting some children the last few years with scholarships that pay their school tuition.  Our sponsorship was a modest amount, thankfully matched by my employer, dollar for dollar, thus making it a bit more than we actually contributed on our won.

Raising funds to help needy children with free school tuition, Education Project, is a brain child of Dr. Tulsi Maharjan, President of FON-NJ and formerly of Raritan Valley College in NJ. He has worked selflessly and established this scholarship program for the benefit of under privileged children in Nepal.  Under his leadership, it is possible now for Nepalese and friends of Nepal living abroad to support needy Nepali children and provide for their school tuition and thus give them a unique opportunity to get education and, through education, better themselves in their lives ahead. This program is actually operated and handled by The Rotary Club of Patan.  Dr. Maharjan is a truly dedicated Nepali who has spent untold amount of time, energy and resources and who has inspired us all to open our hearts and to contribute and support for this worthy cause.  This is truly a heart warming experience and an opportunity for us to make a difference in the life of a child or children.

Because of my very short stay in Nepal, my visit to Shree BalKumari Secondary School nearly didn’t happen.  Because of misunderstanding in getting the directions to the school and my failure to get the exact address, on the day before I was to leave Kathmandu I spent the better part of the afternoon in locating the school.  Along the way I met, as always, very helpful and resourceful Nepalese people, a school teacher in another school in Patan who was generous in making phone calls to help me locate and connect with my contact Mr. Siba Bhakta Rajbhandary, an officer of The Rotary Club of Patan, to take me to the school.  After many unsuccessful attempts, I was finally able to connect with Mr. Rajbhandary, as chance would have it, he turns out to be related to my former boss and Principal of School of Agriculture, in Meen Bhawan, in Kathmandu where I used to teach a few decades ago.  He had been waiting for me at a very busy intersection near a shopping mall in Patan but with constant taxis, buses and other means of transportation whizzing by, he could not hear his mobile phone ringing.  Luckily we made the connection and he and I proceeded to the school to meet with the children firsthand.

We arrived at the school, a govt. school, which I learned later meant the tuition was free for the first six grades after which the parents had to pay for their children’s tuition if they wanted their children to go further than the sixth grade.  This was a large school, a two storey brick structure, with a large courtyard in the middle.  I was informed that there were about 700 students all together from neighboring towns and villages attending from Grade 1 through Grade 10.  Soon as we arrived, a large number of students came up, with flowers (tafo swan or saipatri or marigold, the flower of the festivity and a must have flower during Swunty and in celebrating Kija Pooja) in their hands, to welcome us.  Thus we instantly became VIPs at the school, something which I was quite uncomfortable with and was totally unexpected.  Soon I learned that there were 31 students, a very substantial number in my mind,  who were lined up presenting flowers to us, and all 31 of them were receiving tuition scholarships with the small amount of money we had been sending every year. I was totally and happily surprised to learn so many students, 31 of them, were receiving scholarships.  This was both humbling and beyond belief for me.  Somehow I had thought in my own mind I would meet perhaps a few students, may be 4, 5 or even 6 students receiving scholarships out of the funds we provided.  

We quickly met with the Headmaster and other teachers there. Then we went to the library where once again all 31 scholarship recipients were assembled.  The library was very modest at best, with few furniture, few books, very few magazines and the like.  I didn’t see a check-out counter there which was a very big surprise to my grandchildren living here.  One of the students who spoke and welcomed us on behalf of all assembled school mates was a young girl in the tenth grade. She was the number one ranked merit student in the entire school with a highest grade point average in her class. These students both boys and girls were attending Grade 7 through Grade 10 – the final year in high school in Nepal before taking the SLC examination (School Leaving Certificate) and graduating from high school. Each one of the students got up and introduced himself or herself and was very appreciative of the scholarship he or she was receiving.  Selection of students to receive the scholarships turns out to be a highly competitive process and was based on a complex formula taking into account both the scholastic merits as well as financial needs of the student.  Not knowing beforehand I was not really prepared to give a short talk as requested but managed to emphasize to the students the importance of studying and to let each of them know that they are already doing the right thing – continue to go to school, work hard and do well in your studies.  Quickly remembering the theme of the Imax movie I had seen on Space Exploration, I tried to convey to the students that a good education is a must so that anything one works for becomes possible- go anywhere, accomplish anything one strives for, do anything one dreams of and keep the dreams alive.

My visit to the school and the children thus became the significant part of my trip to Nepal. Although I nearly missed the opportunity, I am grateful that in the end I was able to meet with the children and the memory is etched in my mind.  At that instant I knew that what we had been doing was the right thing and decided that we needed to continue to support this wonderful program- a well deserved and a very good cause.  We could potentially be making a significant difference in a life of a child or children giving them hope and a solid foothold for a better and brighter future in their lives ahead.

Let us join together and let us each make our personal commitment to take actions in making a difference in the life of a child or children. The experience in participating in this heart warming experience and touching the life of a child and making a difference was both humbling and spiritually uplifting.  At the same time the experience could be a life changing experience for all - as supporters of the education program as well as for child or children who receive our gift of love.  A little bit truly goes a very long way!

Nepalese community in America had an exciting day on June 17, 2003 as the community inaugurates a permanent display of the Panche Baja at the Metropolitan Museum in New York City.  As modern times have brought important changes in the musical traditions of Nepal and as the ben baja dominates Kathmandu’s culture the Panche Baja finally arrived in.  Now people from around the world will have an opportunity to learn about the significance of our traditional musical instruments.  

A total of nine instruments will be permanently displayed in the Frederick P. Rose collection gallery of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Krishna Man Manandhar who had collected them in Salyan, Rapti District, Nepal, donated these instruments in 1986. They date back to the 19th century.  The instruments include, Sahanai, Damaha,  Tyamko,  Dholaki , Jhyali , Narsinga,   Karnal and two other instruments that were made in the 20th century,  Dholaki  and Tyamko.   

During this special inaugural ceremony the Hon. Murari Raj Shrma, Nepalese Ambassador to the United Nations, former U.S. Ambassador Leon Weil, writer Roger Lispy, UN representatives as well as members of the Nepalese community from New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Boston were present at the this special event.   

Monk Krishna Man opened the ceremony with a special Buddhist prayer and thanked participants for attending this special event.  The soft-spoken monk with tears in his eyes spoke of how he managed to collect these instruments and brought them to America.   

Ambassador Sharma spoke about the significance of the Panche Baja and how excited he was to have the opportunity to participate in this special event.  Former U.S. Ambassador Hon. Leon Weil elaborated that each country has its own history and culture, I am very happy to have the Nepalese culture resented at the Museum.  Ambassador Weil has been lobbing for a long time to have this display at the museum.   

J. Kenneth Moore, Frederick P. Rose Curator in Charge of the Department of Musical Instruments at the Metropolitan Museum of Art mentioned that the Museum prides itself on representing musical cultures of the world and it is a great pleasure that the panche baja ensemble representing Nepal is now incorporated into our display.  Monk Krishna Man Manandhar’s vision to acquire these instruments and make them available for exhibition enhances our understanding of the traditional use of music and instruments in Nepalese culture.   He further mentioned that the Museum is indebted to the monk for his perseverance in the field and his guidance in the Museum’s presentation.  

According to Dr. Tulsi R. Maharjan, President of the Friends of Nepal, New Jersey, it is a very significant day for our Nepalese community in America to be able to have the permanent display of these musical instruments. Our organization’s goal is to promote and preserve Nepalese cultural heritage and this event is a perfect example of helping to preserve our cultural heritage in America as modern ben baja increasingly dominates the old traditional Panche baja.  

This special event was sponsored by the Friends of Nepal - New Jersey, a
non-profit organization. The mission of FON-NJ is to increase awareness and
understanding of the social and cultural heritage of Nepal, promote networking
opportunities for those who are interested in Nepal and its culture and help
underprivileged people in Nepal.

When you are young, I guess you are not supposed to know the answers. Maybe that is why kids are always curious. To every new thing that they fumble upon, they ask a string of questions until they are completely satisfied, the first question is usually “why?” Kids question things that even the grown-ups who are thought to have all the answers never ask themselves. But society always has a way of making you feel that asking is not right and that just accepting the unknown is how it is suppose to be.

I remember the year I went back to Nepal after five years. It was during Dashain of 1993 and when I boarded that plane and gazed out the window, I did not know what I was leaving behind. The crowd of relatives came to the airport (to receive us), rushing toward my family and I, explaining to us how they were related to us and what they preferred to be called. My dad’s house in Tengal was a pretty old house. When I first climbed out of the van and looked up at the 3-story building that was beginning to deteriorate, I wondered how I was going to survive. Six weeks in a place that was older than my grandparents! Wasn’t there any light inside the house? It was pitch dark when we entered through the tiny opening that served as a door with our bundles of bags strapped around us. My parade of relatives lagged behind us all absorbed in bits and pieces of conversations about the weather, the house and the neighbors who couldn’t mind their own business. Every step that made up the wooden staircase creaked as our feet stomped on the layer of dust that resided on each step. Why is this place so dusty? Weren’t they afraid that one-day the entire staircase would collapse as they were climbing it?

As we reached the first floor, my grandma pulled out a bunch of keys that were all shapes and sizes and went around the entire key chain to locate the one that would open the lock to the room that we would be staying in. Why were the doors so small? Didn’t tall people exist in Nepal? The door had a huge black lock on it and it seemed to me that it looked more like a storeroom that contained the excess groceries then a room that consisted of a bed, chairs and closets. How did they fit all those things inside that teeny tiny room? Lunch was prepared for us and my grandma told us to freshens up and come upstairs when we were ready. I didn’t know that in order to reach the kitchen we had to climb three flights of stairs! Why was the kitchen all the way up? After what seemed like too long, I stepped into the kitchen only to discover that there was no table inside but mats placed neatly next to each other on the floor. Why on the floor I thought to myself.

Six weeks breezed by and soon I found myself helping pack only one suitcase. I wondered why my I was waving good-bye to my dad the very next day and watching his plane take off only a few minutes later. I didn’t ask my mom; maybe I knew I wasn’t supposed to. People never question the familiar; only accept it to be the truth because they are comfortable with the predictable patterns that they see woven out. Asking becomes an unnecessary hassle whereas accepting assures your place in the society you are brought up in. I gave up my swarm of questions to be ordinary and blend in with my surroundings. I think as we grow older and begin to understand we want more to be a part of a certain group then actually question the beliefs of that particular group because we find that our questions never get answered. So what is the difference being kids and grown – ups? 

As we shed away the years and understand, we still don’t have the answers to some things but we leave choose to leave them as questions because there is no curiosity that drives us and even if there is we choose to accept that nothing can truly quench the thirst we have of wanting to know. 

I. In March and April of this year I was fortunate to visit Nepal for two weeks as part of a Group Study Exchange team sponsored by Rotary International.   The Group Study Exchange (GSE) program of The Rotary Foundation is a unique cultural and vocational exchange opportunity for young business and professional men and women between the ages of 25 and 40 and in the early years of their professional lives. The program provides travel grants for teams to exchange visits between paired areas in different countries. For four weeks, we visited Nepal and India, and experienced institutions and ways of life there.  We observed our own vocations as practiced abroad, developed personal and professional relationships, and exchanged ideas.

There are more than 33,000 Rotary Clubs worldwide.  Those clubs are divided into districts, each comprising 60 or more clubs..  The exchange in which I participated was between District 7470 (northwest New Jersey) and District 3290 (Nepal, Calcutta and the Andaman Islands).  Everyone on our team was from northwest New Jersey.  When we returned to New Jersey, we had the pleasure of greeting the GSE team from Nepal and India, who likewise visited New Jersey for a month in April and May.

We began our month by spending two weeks in Nepal.  Most of the Rotary Clubs in Nepal are in the Kathmandu Valley, so we spent a lot of time visiting clubs there.  We also spent two days in Dhulikhel, and some time in Pokhara, Tansen, Siddharthanagar (Tulsi, is that the right name?  I think some people referred to it as Bhairava), and in Chitwan.

When we visited these cities, we attended Rotary Club meetings, and gave brief speeches about life in New Jersey.  We also visited some of the projects each Rotary Club had accomplished, from refurbishing schools to planting gardens, to funding equipment for hospitals—whatever its members thought was important to do in their communities.

Because of the amount of time and money Rotary Club members in Nepal devote to good works, Rotary appeared to me to be quite influential in Nepal.  We met with the Prime Minister, and the meeting was on television!  When we visited Lumbini, we were invited to tea with the Burmese Abbot.

Of course, it was exciting to meet with influential people.  We also met hundreds more people who were not so famous, and each of them was hospitable and friendly. What surprised me was that even the tiniest children greeted us with “Namaste!  Hello!  Hello!”  From my experience with my own children, I know it is impossible to make them greet people enthusiastically, especially strangers.  That warm outburst has to come from their own hearts.

This was my first trip to Asia.  Everywhere I went, even on the bus to Pokhara, I was reluctant to close my eyes for even a minute, in case I missed something.  I loved looking at all the colorful clothes and the beautiful buildings.  The architecture, especially in Bhaktapur and Patan, was like nothing I’d ever seen before, intricate and at the same time sturdy.

My GSE trip was the opportunity of a lifetime.  What surprises many people is that although each team is led by a Rotary member, GSE team members may not be Rotary Club members, or even related to Rotary Club members.  In other words, the GSE program, an outstanding educational experience, is available to any young professional not affiliated with Rotary.  District 7470’s trip next year will be to Tuscany.  It’s not too soon to think about applying!

For more information about the GSE program, speak to a Rotary Club member in the town where you live or work, or Tulsi Maharjan, or check the Rotary website at http://rotary.org/foundation/educational/gse/index.html.

II.  From what I could see from spending two weeks in Nepal, even though Nepal is a relatively poor country, resources tend to be evenly allocated.  One example is food.  In America, wealthier people eat imported produce out of season and more meat than their bodies need; poorer people eat what they can afford, not necessarily what is good for them.  In Nepal, I was impressed that wealthy people as well as poor ate dal bhat cheerfully every day.  Dal bhat is a very democratic food; it provides a complete protein at a relatively low cost.  In this way rich and poor alike share their fortunes by partaking of their national dish.

Another example of  resource allocation was in clothing.  I loved to watch what people were wearing.  After a while I noticed that even though their style of dress differed depending on their ethnicity, most people’s clothes were clean and in good condition, especially in Kathmandu Valley.  (Laborers in rural areas sometimes wore more ragged clothes.)  From what I could see, Nepal does not have a clothing disparity such as we have in the United States, with rich people wearing $800 shoes and poor people wearing tatters.  People dress more uniformly there.

BUT being rich does have its privileges.  Only rich Nepalese can afford the cars they drive along the narrow roads, honking at all the poor people on foot to move out of the way.  Even though most of the population is on foot, those with cars commandeer the roads.  This is especially unfair in the old cities like Tansen and Patan, where the roads were built for pedestrians.  Bhaktapur has banned all cars from its preserved area, and it is a welcome relief not to have to jump aside every time a car honks.

Even the large modern roads are not quite wide enough to share with walkers.  If two vehicles are coming in opposite directions, the hapless pedestrian may have to jump over a ditch in order to make way.

Less well-off people ride motorcycles.  In America motorcycles are dangerous.  I suspect that they are less so in Nepal, because there aren’t so many cars for them to get into accidents with.  And this year a helmet law has gone into effect, making them still safer.  Since motorcycles are narrower, they can share the roads with more pedestrians, as can bicycles.  In the south I saw people, even women in saris, riding bicycles. 

Everywhere I went, poor people were on foot.  If they had burdens, the lucky ones had wheels of some sort, like the wooden cart I saw two men hauling in Siddharthanagar.  The less fortunate carried their burdens suspended from poles on their shoulder (rarely) or in dokos (quite commonly).  Even pregnant women carried dokos full of rocks.  I wished I could give them hand trucks or wheelbarrows, but people assured me “They’re used to it from a very early age.”

 And as I understand it, the Transport Ministry concerns itself with autoroutes, but not with hill trails.  Doctor after doctor with whom we spoke told about how hard it was for people to get out of the hills for medical treatment.  In Pokhara we hiked the hill trails near Dhampus with a man who in his youth had walked an hour and a half to school each day.  The trails were only in good condition because the local people maintained them.  Considering how important they are to the locals, I felt that the trails should have been represented by the Transport Ministry.

My brief visit to Nepal gave me a new appreciation of wide American roads with sidewalks.  I also gained an appreciation of the fortitude and courage of Nepalese pedestrians who shoulder their burdens (or suspend them from their foreheads) every day.

III. One of my hosts on my two-week visit to Nepal was a Coca-Cola distributor.  Coca-Cola is a popular beverage there, as is the Kinley bottled water brand they also sell.My host did not believe me when I told him that in New Jersey fast food restaurants, the servers give empty cups to the customers, who fill them themselves at the fountain.  He may have thought we were having a language problem, when it really went deeper than that.  It was a clash over the relative value of labor in our two home countries.  In New Jersey, the soft drink is much cheaper than the labor that puts it in the cup. Asking a Nepalese to pour their own soda would be like asking a New Jerseyan to pump their own gasoline.  Unthinkable!

Except at the gas station, everywhere I go in New Jersey retailers and services try to push a little more of the work of the transaction back on to me, from requiring me to listen to a long automated telephone operator message, to requiring me to bag my own groceries.  Wherever possible, businesses want to reduce their labor costs by having me, the consumer, do more of the work.  How surprised I was in Nepal, where labor is cheap!
I left my camera in Tansen.  One of my hosts called me to tell me that he was giving it to a courier to motorcycle it to me in Siddharthanagar.  “No, no, no,” I pleaded.  My American sensibilities told me that this was too expensive; there were better uses for the courier’s time.  “Please mail it to me back in Kathmandu.”  He wouldn’t hear of it.  My camera arrived that day, thanks to the man who rode from four to six hours to deliver it.

Everywhere I looked in Nepal I saw evidence of how inexpensive labor was.  People sat by the side of the road breaking rocks by hand for concrete.  Instead of using wheels, people hauled the rocks in dokos.  They cut grass by hand using clippers.  So much human energy used for grueling and repetitive tasks!

Is this a problem?  Are people dissatisfied?  If no one else, the Maoists must be, to have killed 7,000 people since 1996.  50,000 people rallying for democracy in Kathmandu on May 4 express displeasure with a life that can be very hard, especially for people whose labor is valued so little.

IV.  I took my children to Central Park today.  Yesterday I took them to Jockey Hollow.  One of the things I enjoy about being a mother is the pleasure of planning trips with my children.  I assumed this pleasure was universal, until I visited Nepal for two weeks.

In a small town I met a young woman who told me she was in no hurry to get married.  Even though most women in Nepal eventually do, she said she did not want to be restricted by married life, in thrall to her in-laws and for the most part secluded until they died.  Married women, she said, did not leave the house much except for festivals.  (Maybe that’s why there are so many festivals in Nepal, I thought.)

“But what about if you had children?”  I asked.  “Couldn’t you take them on outings?”  She told me that if she had children, she would discuss an outing with her husband, who would then either accompany the family or would take the children out, leaving his wife at home.

Having visited cosmopolitan Kathmandu first, it was hard to believe that such old-fashioned customs still existed.  In another town, I noticed that only men were drawing water.  “We have restrictions on our women here,” one of my hosts said affably. 

On my journey I traveled with two men, but their impression of the conservative towns was different, because, of course, the women there were restricted from talking to them.

I was lucky to meet this young woman, who spoke such good English.  During my brief visit, the few women I met who lived in traditional restricted homes also tended not to speak much English.  Things were changing, slowly, she said.  More and more couples were setting up nuclear families, not moving in with the husband’s parents.  She admitted that this was hard luck for the mothers-in-law who had dutifully served their mothers-in-law.

Actually, I liked some of the conservative customs I encountered, such as the custom of forbidding a woman to cook for three days while she is menstruating.  I would like to introduce it in my own house, without mentioning all the restrictions that come with it!

V. While I traveled for two weeks in Nepal, I slowly got tired of my modest Gap t-shirts and my skirts, chosen not for beauty but for wrinkle-resistance.  I wanted to try on some of the beautiful clothing I saw on the women around me.(The men in my traveling party had it easy.  When they wanted to wear a Nepalese costume, all they had to do was put on a topi.)

In Pokhara I bought a cotton sari for a few hundred rupees  that I thought would coordinate with my purple t-shirt.  I suppose I had been told before but I had never quite understood till that moment that a sari is just a long piece of cloth, and that all its allure rests in how the wearer drapes it.

What a disaster!  With all the sizing still on it, it did not drape well, but stood out in stiff folds, making me look ungainly.  I also learned that one just cannot wear a sari with a t-shirt.  “You need a blouse and petticoat,” said my hostess.

Back in Patan, my host’s daughter took me shopping.  I wanted some Dhaka cloth, and I needed some fabric for a blouse and petticoat if I was ever going to wear that sari.  However, having seen myself in the mirror on the first attempt,  I was beginning to doubt that the sari was the fashion for me.

She took me to a dressmaker who took more measurements than I thought possible  and quoted me a price I thought impossible: Nr 140.  (Before I left New Jersey I had asked a seamstress to stitch together a simple skirt. $40!)  When I received the blouse and petticoat, I was amazed at the handwork, especially in the blouse.

To see if it would drape better, I bought a polyester sari.  It did.  With the new blouse and petticoat, that sari fit like a dream!  I suddenly felt more graceful and elegant than I had felt in years.  No wonder Nepalese women put up with the inconvenience of stepping on their pleats and getting their hems dirty!  This is a gorgeous outfit!  Available for pennies, if you can afford the airfare back to Nepal!

But that evening was the last night of the trip.  Now I am back in America and wondering where I can get more saris.  Look for me at the Friends of Nepal annual picnic.  I’ll be the tall woman in the polyester sari.

Katharine Hadow

Sometimes the simplest lessons can be learned in the weirdest way. A couple of weeks ago I wouldn’t have believed what I just wrote but now, today and forever the first sentence that I choose to start my story off with couldn’t have held anymore truth than it already does. Monday is always a long drawn out day, especially when it involves waking up at six in the morning, fumbling out of bed and realizing it is the beginning of another week of school. So I begin my day, which at the moment seems endless like looking straight ahead of a highway and knowing that the road will never stop but only have twist and turns along the way.

I park in my usual spot, three rows behind the teachers’ slots and go straight up the stairs towards the library. I can see Irene staring into a Biology book and I wonder, “Does she realize that she is absorbing nothing?” “Hi Irene,” I say to her. “Huh?” The first sound out of Irene’s mouth…senioritis caught up with her pretty quickly. So we begin our daily talk of parents, grades and teachers. And somewhere into the conversation I say, “Yah I hate when people you don’t even know stay over your house, I mean a monk is living with us right now.” Irene ‘s eyes grow huge and she cuts me off before I can finish my sentence. Irene says, “What did you say?” I look at her as if she is going crazy, why is she looking at me like I just told her I was really a man and had a sex change or something? All I said was that a monk is living at my house.

That’s right…this is new for her. Krishna Man Manandhar, one of my dad’s closest friends, whom I never knew existed until that week, came to live with us, it’s as simple as that. But many people have a hard time swallowing the words, especially the word “monk.” And in many ways so do I but when he casually comes up in the conversation I don’t seem to notice anything “unusual” with it. My friends are fascinated when I talk about him and I can see each one of their faces light up when I talk about what he does and the clothes he wears, it’s almost like telling pre-school students about dragons, fairies, monsters, ghosts, and witches, the supernatural. He is supernatural, at least for them. Not ever having actually seen it, but, hearing about it from people and reading about it in books, isn’t that what a supernatural would be defined as?  They would rush up to me each day, all of them in a long line, begging to come over so they could come meet my monk. I didn’t have a celebrity hidden in my house, just a monk.

I never had chance to really sit down and have a conversation with the monk, mostly because I made sure I didn’t have time. It was a weird feeling knowing that someone religious was living in my house, when I myself rarely stepped foot into a temple and was clueless every time there was a ‘Pooja’ or some other ceremony. I went along with whatever my parents told me to do and I always wondered if I really did believe in what I was doing. I know I do believe, I just haven’t found what I believe in. I didn’t know what to call the monk, an 80-year-old man, and my dad’s friend…should I say uncle or grandpa or just plain Krishna Man? So I chose not to call him at all and if I had to refer to him it would be simply Mr. Monk, formal and respectful.

Every day I would awake at five in the morning only to hear him chanting. I would open my door quietly and slip out…tiptoeing upstairs I would peek through the stair bars and there I would see Mr. Monk crossed legged in the middle of the room with his eyes shut. He always seemed so peaceful when I saw him in morning and I always wondered what it was that was going inside that head of his while he was spitting out this chant that might as well have been in Greek. I wanted to peek inside and see what he saw, if only for a minute because his face possessed a sense of tranquility that I have never seen on a person. Each feature in his face was relaxed, his eyes, his nose, his lips. It was as if something was controlling him and all he was doing was following in total submission because he trusted and believed in that something. He was giving himself totally and completely and in return gaining a sense of power that flowed through his body. I envied him but I never told anyone. What would people say if I confessed that I was jealous of Mr. Monk?

He was cooped up in the house the whole week. Each day all of us would run out the door to go about our duties and Mr. Monk would be home…alone.  On Wednesday of that week, I was getting ready to go pick my friend up because we had a yearbook dinner to go to. I was running late and so I dashed up the stairs expecting to find Mr. Monk laying on the floor staring up at the ceiling chanting whatever it is that he chants. But instead I only find my brother on the computer. “Where is the monk?” I ask him. He says, “I haven’t seen him ever since I got home.” I run back down open every door in the house and realize that my monk has escaped! I leap for the car keys, practically fly out the door and in a matter of seconds find myself going around my complex several times hoping to find a tiny little man dressed in a maroon robe with a bright yellow bag hung across his shoulder.  Unwillingly, I give up my search because I am already half an hour late and my friend is still waiting to be picked up. It starts to rain heavily and I only pray that my monk is somewhere INSIDE.

As I was waiting for the light to turn green by QuickChek - a convenient store in my area - my eyes wonder toward a man who rushes out the store with a brown bag in his hand. “My monk,” I exclaim. Relief poured into me. I honk several times hoping that he will at least glance toward my direction and he does…after the fifth honk. I wave frantically and he hurries inside the car. Moments later I find myself driving Mr. Monk home. He still had the bag clutched in his arm and a huge smile spread across his face. He looked like a kid who wanted nothing more than to have some harmless fun. Sitting next to him, I felt as if he was getting younger as the seconds ticked away. Mischief swam in his eyes and no longer was an old man beside me but a boy, a carefree boy who took time to peer through any crack he could find in the man. I asked him if he had fun and the monk only smiled.

Saturday marked the end of his stay. He had a small briefcase with him and a handbag. I didn’t know what to say to him but he knew exactly what to say to me. “Continue to make your parents proud because you have already made me proud,” he said. I could only blink because the words were something that pierced through me so suddenly. They touched me and I barely knew the monk - My Monk!

A simple everyday question, “Who am I?” is the basis of initiation toward spiritualism. The simple everyday answer to this question is, of course, “I am so and so.” And a name is spelt out. A further investigation tries to find out who really am I. There we find the distinction emerging between the body and the soul. When we admit the existence of a soul, independent of the body, we enter into the world of spiritualism.

This discovery leads us to the world of mind and find out where does the soul lie and what is it all about. Meditation helps us to process this mental investigation in a slow and smooth way. Once I start telling myself, “I am a soul” it lets loose a series of waves in the inner world.

The first realization that comes to mind is that a soul, having a separate and independent existence from the physical body, does not die as does the body that carries it. As a corollary, we start believing that the soul is eternal and immortal. If a soul is eternal it must have a past, a present and a future too. As of the present, the soul is living in my body. Does it die along with the death of my body? No, it does not. In fact, it can observe the body dying as it can observe it acting during life.

This realization of the immortality of soul leads us to believe that there must be a greater soul, rather the greatest soul who is guiding and monitoring it. Such a soul cannot but be a god. In this way, spiritualism necessarily leads us to a belief of the existence of god, a supreme power beyond the physical power and might.

We find all religions believing and upholding a god or gods. In that content, all religions are spiritual. But spiritualism needs not be religious. Spiritualism can be adopted and practiced without subscribing to any religion. Every religion has a set of prescriptions and faiths. They appear so different in their appearance and rituals. But there is an undeniable commonality in all of them. They invariably subscribe to divine power, a supreme power and a spiritual power.

Religions as they exist today have divided the world and the humanity. There is a commonality of spiritualism in all of them but the outer paraphernalia of different religious practices has overshadowed it. So broadly speaking, we can say that religions have acted divisive whereas spiritualism as such tends to unify humanity as a whole with the belief that everybody is basically a spirit, eternal and immortal.  

The value of peace need not be overemphasized in all respects. A society without peace is unlivable. Similarly, man without inner peace can hardly survive for long. There are many factors determining the state of social peace. But it is in the hands of the individual to influence his internal peace. Individuals rightly feel helpless in making a difference to social peace. But if they apply the same yardstick with regard to their own peace of mind, they are either wrong or ignorant.

Spiritualism can help them obtain and retain peace of mind at personal level. It can be achieved by a sense of satisfaction and happiness in life. This is indeed the most difficult task because of individual desires and ambitions for material prosperity and personality development.

Let us first consider material prosperity. There is no doubt man feels happy with economic gains. But there is no guarantee that it remained a source of lasting happiness. Wealth, prosperity and material possession can turn out to be a setback to human happiness. It might help people to enjoy life and that is distinctly visible. But it might turn out to be a source of troubles and unhappiness.

So may be the case of those who believe that fulfillment of their ambitions in life in gaining power, name and prestige will bring them happiness. Many people get their ambitions accomplished by hard work or by luck. But it does not necessarily bring about a state of inner happiness.

It is only spiritualism that can stand a guarantor to human happiness. A state of samadhi attainable through regular meditation is a permanent and immutable source of happiness. It is this happiness that secures peace of mind.

When man is oblivious of his physical existence and worldly thoughts while meditating he is considered to be in a state of samadhi, the highest attainment of concentration. That is a state when he identifies himself with divine power. It is a state of supreme inner peace. It is the state of godliness in man.

One has to rise above the barriers of the physical world to reach this state of divinity. Divinity is an inherent part of human soul. It needs to be aroused with the help of meditation. It is possible through a long practice of meditation. The long time and practice are necessary to clear the camouflage covering the divine soul with worldly vices.

What are the vices that generally keep the noble soul from sprouting out? It is lust, anger, greed, attachment and egoism. Human life is mostly dominated by these vices. Getting lost in the wilderness of these overpowering feelings, man does not know who he is, where he is from and where he is heading. Not that these feelings are devoid of pleasure, satisfaction and happiness. They indeed make him feel good, spirited and even at times ecstatic when they go in his favor. But more often than not, they make him feel miserable because they go against his wishes and interests.

Meditation is the strongest weapon to fight against these dominant elements. Meditation is a slow process; so is its effect. It erodes slowly the fortress they have built in man. With the increasing impact of meditation, man goes on experiencing diminishing power of these elements. He finds over a period of time his lust, anger, greed, attachment and egoism coming under control. He feels, instead of being overpowered by these sentiments, he can manage and manipulate them according to his choice. Instead of acting as a subject to these feelings he develops a power to command them. He becomes his own master and that secures him a permanent peace and happiness.

In this process of spiritual transformation, man develops an inner vision that is considered to be a third eye. A third eye is nothing but a visionary power in man by which he can visualize his external personality, behavior and acts. He can even observe his own mind and the way it is working. It is in fact a manifestation of human soul awakened. With the help of this third eye, man can monitor his day-to-day activities and steer his life in the safer and better road.

It is thus clear that spiritual transformation can bring about physical transformation, attitudinal and behavioral transformation with definitive impact on social transformation.

In this context, yoga always helps man to gain something in life. In a broader context, yoga is physical, mental and spiritual. The Hatha yoga deals with the physical part, whereas other branches like Raja yoga, Gyana yoga and Samkhya yoga address mental and spiritual phenomena. Man exists with an organism and he lives with it every day rather every second. Similarly he has a mind that guides him every day rather every moment. To keep them going, he eats, drinks, works, thinks, imagines, rests and sleeps every day. He follows a 24-hour diurnal course. These functions are considered regular and routine for his survival and development.

Nature takes care of most of the physical and mental processes. However there are some conscious acts of man as necessary intervention. For example, man performs a conscious act of eating. But the process of digesting and defecating is taken care by nature. Man goes to sleep consciously but it is nature that takes over the process of sleep. This is nothing remarkable. It is a common knowledge.

What is not a common knowledge is that a small effort on the part of man can make the natural processes in human body and mind much improved and better. The effort should be to make yoga as a part of everyday life like easting, drinking and sleeping. All these acts take time; so does yoga. But the time it takes is much less than other daily acts.

Time however is a subjective matter. If it is habitual man feels it too short. But if it is not and if he has to make a point to perform it he feels otherwise. Hence, time is not an insurmountable factor. What is needed is to make yoga habitual. There is no harm in making it a habit for the benefits it promises to deliver to him.

Hence it is suggested that yoga should be made a daily diet like we eat every day several times.

Why should we give time to it?

Time is valuable. Time is money. Why should we spend it on yoga if there is no worthwhile and assured return from it? That is a simple and logical question. The answer to this question is equally simple and logical. And that is: yoga does deliver worthwhile and assured benefits to those who practice it. This is, of course, a general claim. Now let us get down to specific benefits.

For example, let us take Hatha yoga first. It is indeed a collection of physical exercises. Exercises can be done in gyms too. So what is the difference? The difference is rather fundamental. A gym exercise is basically sweating movement. Its aim is to build up muscles. A yoga posture, appearing at times similar to those of the gym, is just the opposite. It is calming movement instead sweating. It helps to tone up the muscles but not build it up. So a gym exercise tries to consume as much energy as possible whereas a yoga posture is performed with least expense of energy.

It did not mean to discount the value of the gym exercise. It has its own value for weight control, body build-up, physical look and body stamina. Compared to it, yoga exercise has different values. It may not improve the outer bodily features but it helps keep all the vital inner organs of the body healthy and smoothly functioning. The heart, lungs, liver, pancreas, and kidney are considered the vital parts of the body because without one of them man dies. It is to strengthen these organs that yoga plays a key role.

A gym exercise tends to make the practitioner physically tired. On the contrary, yoga makes him agile. The former tends to develop stiffness in the body especially in the joints of the body. The latter is the best remover of bodily stiffness and, in fact, brings about suppleness in the body. In that sense, if their effect is measured in human productivity, a yoga practitioner will show greater efficiency than those of gym practitioners.

Even in terms of physical benefits, yoga exercise outweighs the gym exercise in the aging process. If you want to look younger than your age and maintain a youthful look even during your old age, there is nothing better than the yoga exercise. It is all due to the constant nourishment of skin and toning of muscles that a younger look than the age is achieved. The gym exercise puts lot of strain and pressure on the muscles that wear out after few years with the result that the outer look becomes weird too.

Similarly, a long-term effect can also be noticed in better performance of sexual act in a yoga practitioner. The blood circulation considerably improved and the breathing process brought under absolute control, you can develop a longer staying power than you have at present. This kind of effect is not noticeable in the gym practitioners. They develop greater stamina that may induce them to act more violently. It is not the same thing that yoga helps to increase enjoying capability.

The biggest difference in the gym and yoga exercises is in the area of mental faculty. The gym practitioner can, of course, achieve a healthy mind in a healthy body. The yoga practitioner derives, besides these benefits, an additional advantage of a peaceful mind. The slow pace of movement and regulated breathing during the yoga postures acts like a tranquilizer into the mind. It enhances the power of concentration that plays a key role in efficiency.