Tattva

I came to Braj roughly two years ago looking for identity in a world that was slowly losing meaning for me. A recent residency graduate born and raised in the United States, I was discouraged by the complexities of practicing medicine in the Western world. I decided I would take an unplanned trip to grandmother India and allow her to guide my entry into the next stage of life. I intended to tour the entire country in search of the most fulfilling opportunity to serve the underserved. Little did I know, my first stop would be my last.

My flight arrived in Delhi a little after midnight and, without a lost moment, I was whisked off to the Uttar Pradesh part of Braj (which encompasses parts of Rajasthan and Haryana as well). I arrived at a small, dilapidated ashram known as Maan Mandir. Maan Mandir is situated in Gahvarvan, on the outskirts of Barsana - also known as the domain of Radha Rani – and is recognized as an integrated canvas where people of different social classes come together as equals.

That first night, I stood outside on the high veranda as the wind cleared my head. I peered out at the seemingly endless stretch of moonlit fields, listening to the distant nomadic songs of devotionally intoxicated Brajwasis. Despite my skeptical mind, the prospect of crossing paths with any messenger of Radha Rani filled me with child-like anticipation, yet, surprisingly, set me at total ease. It was as though I had returned to the uncorrupted days of my youth when the high-pitched scream of Krishna’s flute still called to me. To a time when Radha was my muse and all things beautiful were laid at Her doorstep. As I stood out there, for reasons that are still not clear to me, I felt like walking. I felt like losing myself in the whirlwind of dance. I felt like leaving behind all the influences and worries of my past in the wild anonymity of the soft moonlight resonating so intimately through the forests and hills of Braj. At that precious moment, it was unimaginable that something so sacred and tender could be so ruthlessly mistreated.

The next few months were devoted to my Brajwasi patients laughing at my Americanized Hindi and to purging my Western idiosyncrasies. I attended most of the satsangs, learned how to write Hindi (alongside four 5-year old colleagues) and to play the harmonium while (badly) singing folk Brajwasi bhajans. I took up the traditional-modern garb of dhoti-sweater and helped in the rasoya (food preparation area) when I was away from the clinic. I learned to hand-wash my own laundry and get around without local help. All in all, for the first time in my many trips to India, I felt self-sufficient. I felt like part of the community.
The people of Braj are invariably simple. Much like their ancestors, they remain humble cowherders, farmers, and merchants. Influenced by the philosophy of self-effacing devotion and relentless laughter, the Brajwasis do not lose faith or take things too personally. Even with as little as they have, they carry a tireless joy that exemplifies what it means to be a true ‘Bhakth’ (devotional aspirant). They yell at each other without ill-will and fight without the intent to hurt. They give when they don’t have, forgive even the most heinous injustices, and just as the cliché proclaims, dance like no one is watching. The Brajwasis instinctively personify the tough yet loving village-girl image of Radha herself.

As I grew closer to the community, I better understood that there is no hierarchy amongst Bhakths. Even though Sri Ramesh Baba is clearly the nucleus and inspiration behind Maan Mandir, in accordance with Bhakthi philosophy, he brutally exaggerates his shortcomings and claims to be no different than anyone else. Since his arrival 56 years ago, he has never left Braj and lives a humble existence, denying himself even the most harmless of luxuries. “Baba”, as he is affectionately known, is devoted to the vision of reconstructing the natural habitat of Braj (which encompasses such areas as Vrindavan, Goverdhan, Nand Gao, Mathura, and Barsana) and preserving the original leelasthalis (historical landmarks such as footprints and leela sites) of Radha-Krishna. He accepts only enough outside contributions to cover the basic needs of the ashram and does not care for fame. In a century of ashram builders, he does little to expand or beautify the ashram living space and focuses most of his attention on protecting and restoring the original swaroop (divine splendor) of the forests, mountains, rivers (Yamuna Ji) and kunds (sacred ponds) of Braj as recounted in the scriptures. Baba often emphasizes that communion with the Divine does not happen in closed spaces but in the abundance of nature, as depicted in almost all artistic renditions of Radha-Krishna’s time on earth. He is, as many see him, the highest proponent of spiritual environmentalism.

Unfortunately, with all virginal things in this modern world, there are corporate predators willing to demolish and desanctify anything for the sake of profit. Similarly, in Braj, in the most blatant exhibition of disrespect, well-funded miners are literally blowing up (with dynamite) the revered mountains of Braj. The purpose of this mining is not to acquire precious minerals but to excavate gross rock for construction purposes. Much of the lush greenery that is being destroyed is adjacent to desert ecosystems. Consequently, in many of the demolished areas, the deserts permanently encroach upon regions that were once rich with biodiversity and vegetation. The heavy metal and chemical residue left behind by mining activities pollutes the water supply and soil. This, in turn, affects agricultural viability and safety for the local inhabitants and continued survival of the regional wildlife.

In reaction to the outcries of the Brajwasis and the NRIs, the State government of Rajasthan (where most of the mining activity is centered) ordered complete cessation of mining with the transfer of the Braj part of Rajasthan under the federal authority of the Department of Forestry. Despite this, illegal mining continues, unregulated by law enforcement. Various state officials have conveniently delayed court hearings, misinterpreted the law, and authorized continued mining, despite Braj now clearly being under the jurisdiction of the federal government. Journalists, corrupted by the financial influence of the mining mafia, doctored articles defiling Baba and the Maan Mandir community. Even a few Braj religious leaders have fallen prey to the miners deep pockets and, when given the opportunity to address public forums, neglected to speak on the real issues of Braj, rather focusing on personal fundraising, maintaining political neutrality and name-building. The miners have gone so far as to threaten a case to remove some of the meager property holdings from the possession of Maan Mandir and initiated unfounded criminal cases against Baba and various devotees. To put it simply, the innocent souls of Maan Mandir, composed predominantly of young adults and children, are being attacked by convoluted modern scare-tactics unknown to them. As a result, they are now unfairly living under the constant threat of disreputation and physical violence and there is no authority in India willing to consistently help.

Despite this, the Brajwasis have continued the good fight, wholeheartedly believing the sanctity of this land is well-worth the sacrifice. In their view, Radha and Krishna walked every inch of Braj and the spiritual chastity of the land is therefore undeniable and must be protected at all costs. I clearly remember a disheveled old man, gazing at me in painful disbelief, after I had thoughtlessly spit on the ground. To him, anywhere Radha-Krishna’s feet touched deserved the utmost reverence. He asked me to swallow next time.

Braj is the epicenter of the Bhakthi movement and in order to preserve the devotional essence of Hindu philosophy, Braj itself must be preserved. Baba himself states that the preservation of the “heart of the Indian soul” is contingent upon the preservation of Braj. The Shastras further expound that Braj is a natural extension of Goverdhan, which is considered to be Krishna himself.

Everywhere in the world there is injustice. The difference in Braj is that it is swept under the rug, as though nothing is wrong. However, when the essence of Hindu spirituality is physically bombarded to accomplish corporate goals, something is wrong. When politicians and law enforcement turn a blind eye while the heart of our motherland is raped, something is wrong. When impoverished Brajwasis are stripped of the very land they depend upon for grazing and farming, something is wrong. When the environmental wonders of this bountiful land are plundered and millions of years of natural evolution are blown to dust and transformed into desert, something is wrong. When Indian leaders popularize a “Second Green Revolution” as a result of the growing food and water shortages yet allow the mass-destruction of arable land, something is wrong. When religious and state politicians speak of further compromise on tragedies that can’t afford to be compromised any further, something is wrong. When the sincere, compassionate warriors of this cause are framed and misrepresented by journalists who have sold themselves into materialistic slavery at the cost of their own people and journalistic integrity, something is wrong. When the men and women who make and uphold the law forget to protect and serve Truth, something is wrong. When supposed saints decline the opportunity to fight for and, on occasion, obstruct Dharma in this modern-day Mahabharata, something is wrong. When the gentle Brajwasi community is placed in harms way, something is wrong. When the living, breathing land our forefathers died defending is reduced to lifeless rubble, something is wrong.
As a stubborn foreign child unwilling to walk away from the life-sustaining needs of his newfound Brajwasi family, I hope that you hear my plea. I hope that you recognize the spiritual and environmental magnitude of this moment and step forward decisively in protecting Braj — the heart of our motherland. More than ever, she needs us.

Animesh Sinha, M.D. is a US-based general practitioner who has devoted his medical skills to serving the homeless and Native American population domestically and the underserved internationally. He volunteers approximately six-months out of every year in India and Fiji and is committed to efforts that restore balance through the redistribution of skills and resources to indigent communities. To take action or get involved in the medical arena, contact Dr. Sinha at animesh.sinha73@gmail.com

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This entry was posted on Saturday, November 1st, 2008 at 5:42 am and is filed under Editorials/Reflections. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.