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Unexpected Transformations: A memoir of a Hindu youth camp, by Arnav Chakravarty

“God is dead. We have killed him.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

From 9th grade through my freshman year at New York University (NYU), I lived the typical Indian teenager’s life. It revolved around four things: good grades, competitive debate, tennis, and my friends. Sure, I celebrated all the major Hindu festivals, including Durga Puja, Saraswati Puja, Diwali, Holi, etc. but I knew very little about my religion and made little time to learn. My religion was important only on holidays and celebrations. It meant that I got nice clothes, performed dances and plays during the pujas, and hung out with my friends. This was fine while I was at home in Houston.

However, when I came to NYU, I left everything behind. I was alone in an unfamiliar city, left to myself for the next four years of my life. I wanted the same sense of community I had in high school, but had no idea where to find it. This past year, I started attending a shakha* close to NYU in an attempt to find that community. The shakha was a good experience: it was comprised mostly of college students and young professionals, and it was a good way to spend my Thursday nights. I was sporadically learning about my own religion, but I was more interested in finding friends than finding religion. When I was invited to the Northeast Yuva Vargh (youth camp), I said yes thinking that it was essentially a retreat for high school seniors, college students, and young professionals. I would meet some great people, stay up late at night having fun, and come back refreshed for the rest of the spring semester. My friend mentioned that the vargh would help me explore some spiritual questions that I normally wouldn’t consider, and since I had made a New Year’s Resolution to understand more of my Hindu heritage, I thought this event was as fun an event as any to start keeping that resolution.

The first morning was akin to a culture shock. I was woken up by a friend at 7 am. On cue, I started groaning and complaining, but quickly quieted down when I realized that he had gone to sleep an hour after I had slept and woken up an hour earlier in order to organize the morning activities. I was used to waking up at noon, rolling around in bed for an hour, and not starting anything useful until 2 pm on any given Saturday. So, when I was told that I must be ready to start the day’s activities by 8 am, I scoffed at the suggestion. However, as I watched other swayamsevaks get ready without needing any outside motivation (i.e. a kick to the kidneys or a good dose of freezing cold water in the face) I knew that I had to also, for at least the next two days, force myself to do the same or risk being thoroughly embarrassed in front of everyone.

The phrase “peer pressure,” used proverbially or as a term of art, carries a very negative connotation. It bears images of teenagers or young adults acquiescing to their friends’ demands to smoke, drink, or otherwise engage in illicit activities just to fit into a social group. However, the positive peer pressure dynamic is present in a very different context at the yuva vargh: it becomes a tool that is used to instill discipline, responsibility, and order among otherwise very rowdy college students and young professionals. Every time a shikshak called “daksha”, I was amazed at how quickly everyone stopped what they were doing and came to attention. There was no delinquency: if you were “bold” enough to not pay attention to the speaker, you would be standing alone, with 30 pairs of eyes bearing down upon you, wondering why you could not follow a simple command.

But you weren’t standing to attention just to listen to some boring lecture. The activities at the vargh were thoroughly enjoyable. Niyuddha, a form of Indian martial arts, was taught both days by fellow students who had previous knowledge of the art. For someone who had very little exposure to any kind of martial arts before coming to shakha and the vargh, this was a unique experience. By the end of the vargh, I had learned a three kick combination that could knock someone out cold (unfortunately, I have yet to properly test my newly acquired skills).  The games and the scavenger hunt were not only physically challenging but also intellectually invigorating. The games had something for everyone: for the competitive person, winning in dodge ball or kabaddi was paramount; for the problem solver, a series of riddles, number games, and brainteasers awaited.

When I described these activities to my suitemate back home, he was amazed that a collection of high school seniors, college students, and young professionals were so into such “kiddy” games. After all, never in a million years would you find college kids playing these games at a dorm party. But, the games were incredibly successful because they weren’t played aimlessly: each game had an underlying message and honed essential skills that are required for success in any field or profession. Seemingly simple things, like proper communication, logical thinking, team work, and trust were emphasized in each of the games. The message hit home because of the competitive element: If you didn’t trust your teammates, or weren’t willing to work together, you would lose. And no one, no matter how apathetic or unwilling, likes to lose. This method may seem “kiddy” to the outsider, but multi-million dollar corporations and agencies spend thousands of dollars every year on workshops that attempt to instill the same values into their employees. I’m willing to bet that the games at the vargh are more successful than the workshops are.

We did all this in good fun at the vargh, but for me, the most important part of the vargh was the hour or so we spent each day in our discussions (charchas). Truthfully, it has always been very difficult for me to balance spirituality and my desire to do well in my academics, sports, etc. I always found myself pushing spirituality aside to concentrate on more pertinent tasks, like the next exam, the next debate tournament, or the next tennis match. Moreover, trying to maintain some balance between success and hanging out with my friends was already hard enough. I just didn’t have time for spirituality. This was my justification, and for the vast majority of people, it was enough.

However, as I sat down talking to people who had either a) managed to strike that balance or b) found religion important enough to try and find some spiritual balance, I was in unfamiliar surroundings. I was used to being around friends who fervently believed that anything unrelated to material success or reward could be sacrificed. Sure, we were happy with what we had accomplished, but was happiness only defined along a material dimension? Was it worth it to ignore the spiritual aspect of our lives? Was God really dead?

Above all else, this vargh has shown me that Nietzsche is wrong. It is true that we routinely ignore our spiritual lives and the teleology of religion and instead make material success the basis of all our actions. But that does not mean that God is dead; rather, God is simply waiting. Waiting for us to realize that spirituality and material responsibility can not only co-exist, but flourish if we put in the effort. Why? Taking the time to practice our religion instills within us self-discipline, confidence, leadership, respect, and a sense of community that can carry us farther than we could ever envision if we only consider our material well being. The students who were leading the vargh were living proof of this.

As I sat around talking to my peers about ways to balance our lives, I found that I wasn’t alone in dealing with this problem. To some degree, everyone encounters this conflict. The simple question becomes, are we willing to work harder to find that balance? Prior to the vargh, I would have gone with the tyranny of the majority and flatly refused. The harsh reality of the material world was hard enough to navigate.

However, this weekend has shown me otherwise. Improving our spiritual selves only helps us in navigating the real world. It gives us a way to move outside of the constant pressure cooker that we live in, even if for a fleeting moment. I was lucky enough to spend an entire weekend away from that pressure. I came in hoping to have a good time. I had a great time, but left with far more intimate knowledge of myself than I could have ever imagined. Talk about unexpected.

Arnav Chakravarty is a sophomore joint majoring in Economics and Mathematics at New York University.

*A shakha is a weekly gathering of people to learn about and preserve Hindu culture through yoga, games, discussions, etc. (To learn more, please visit www.hssus.org.)

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 1st, 2009 at 7:03 am and is filed under 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.

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