The Last Sadhu

The Last Shadhu

I've met some interesting people on the streets of Kathmandu. One intense looking man is smiling openly at me. "Sir, your music massages my lower mind and awakenings in me a clean spot of higher consciousness."
I can't believe I am hearing this.
"who are you?"
"I sir am a gypsy."
"a gypsy? There's no gypsies in Nepal"
"That may be sir but nevertheless, I am a gypsy"
I nod impressed. "I like that. Gypsy. I think 'I'll use that. Can you teach me to be a gypsy?" "Sir, I can not teach you to be something you already are. We are all gypsies. Most of us just don't know it" I nod impressed. Wow, this guy is good.
A shadhu is a holy man who has given up the game of life in pursuit of a higher goal, a spiritual awakening. This could come in the form of enlightenment or more probably, an end to the cycle of reincarnation. It is said that shadhus believe that by devoting their life to God and the singleminded search for truth, they will not be reborn again into a life that by it's very nature is filled with suffering.
I went to the Hindu cremation site in eastern Kathmandu, Pashipan. The site is open to tourists and is a must see stop, as is a similar site in Varinasee,India. Tourists can wander anywhere in the site except for inside the large ornate wooden carved temple. To go in their you must be a hindu. The tourist are tolerated in much the same way as the scores of monkeys, who also wander around the site eating food that was orginally left for the gods. It's ok as long as people respectfully observe their funeral rituals which involve cleaning the body ceremonially in the river and then burning it. Insense mingles with the smoke from the funeral pyres, and chanting fills the air. It is an other-worldly atmosphere. Its an entire industry and there are workers who supply the wood, priests who manage the ceremony, people who clean up and push the ashes and wood into the river. The half burned wood is given to potters to fire their kilns. The eldest son will be clothed in a special outfit as he lights the fire that it is said will return the parent's parts to the universe so that the reincarnation process will begin. I was told that some NGO set up a cornea donation site at the banks of the river, but that it went out of operation because the families feared that if they donated Papa's corneas, he would come back in the next life blind.
Some say that the Sadhus hanging around that holy sight are not real shadhus, they are just there to take money from the tourists. Indeed, they can be seen posing for pictures and asking for donations. Some of them look very outlandish, with hair that hasn't been cut in 30 years, faces covered in ash or painted wildly with colors from the temple. Each Shadhu is free to find his own way to show his extreme devoutness to God. There is one there who claims he hasn't sat down for 12 years. He stands in a harness that holds him up and allows him to sleep standing. There is another Shadhu who claims to be the oldest living one, at 103. There are shadhus who decided to show their devotion by continually raising one arm as if to say, "Me. Choose me God". Some of these sahdhus arms have become locked in the raised position from years of non-movement, and cant be lowered. The real shadhus some say, you won't see at tourist sites. In fact you may not see them at all. They may stay in caves meditating or away from the public eye. But they have to eat.
I see a lot of people who I think could be shadhus. To me many Nepalis walking around look like that. Wrapped in a blanket, with distinctive leg wrappings. But I think a real man of peace can be identified by the calmness, the goodness in his eyes. When he walked up and stood on the edge of the crowd, I sensed a goodness in his presence. He was simply what he was, a man wrapped in a grey blanket and wearing white muslin pants, with a full black beard and very kind sensitive eyes. I looked at him and he looked right back at me, holding my gaze but not aggressively, not challengingly, but with warmth, as if to say, "Ah. Here we two have found each other for a moment.let's see what will happen next" like gazing into a still pond, and any movement may create the slightest ripple that may be reflected throughout the pond.
After talking for a short while I asked him,"what do you do?"
He put his hands out to the side and gestured all around. I just walk around and think about....about all this."
"so you're a Shadhu."
He fidgetted around and then smiled embarrasedly. "Yes. I am"
"But you don't look like other shadhus I've seen."
"I'm not that kind of Shadhu." he smiled.
"So what do you do all day?"
He smiled brightly. "I consider things"
I considered that.
"well what are you considering now?"
his face showed eagerness, as if finally the conversation was getting really interesting.
"ah lately I have been looking into the nature of problems. How does the concept of problem arise in the mind. After all life is life and it's what happens to you, but at some point our minds pick out a portion of life and label it as a problem and this becomes a problem in our mind. I'm looking at how that begins and how it affects us and our relationship to what is."
"Wow", I thought, "this guy talks like I talk if I'm really stoned only he's not stoned".
"well, what are some of the problems that you have as a Shadhu anyway?"
here his face turned serious and he looked troubled. "Many times I can't find anything to eat. As a Shadhu I must really on things that people give me, and sometimes no one will give me anything for days, and I get quite hungry and even get headaches. This is I realize a part of my life and must be accepted, yet still it becomes a problem in my mind. I suspect that if it didnt become a problem in my mind, it wouldn't be a problem. That's my working theory. So now I watch as my mind becomes upset about food and how that affects me"
He seemed animated and enjoying himself. He reminded me of some of the religious Jews I had met who relished nothing more than a good discussion and argument.
"Do you have any other problems?"
"Yes. Often when I sleep, people will come and disturb me. Sometimes they kick me, or make a loud noise to startle me. I always sleep by the side of the road or in a doorway. I think many times it's the street children who do this because somehow in their mind it seems funny." He smiled awkwardly, torn between judging these people as bad and his normal way of looking at people positively. "sometimes I can't sleep and I feel tired the next day." As he talked, even about his problems, there was a sweetness and innocence about him, like a freshly washed face. He seemed eager to go one, discussing and analysing the workings of his mind, which clearly fascinated him, but I cut him off.
" It seems to me," I said as I looked into his eager face, "that your problems are very real. It's natural that you would be upset about them. You don't have enough food, and you don't have a safe place to sleep. Those problems exist in reality and are not products of your mind."
He looked pleased with our conversation because I was speaking his language of analysis. "although your mind does react to these problems, it is natural that it does so because the problems are real. Perhaps at this stage in your life, it would be better if you found some easy job where you could make enough money to solve these 2 problems, and then they would be gone from your life, and you could consider the other aspects of your life from a much less disturbing space."
he looked startled as if I had just turned his world upside down, yet the logic of my argument was inescapable.
"Get a job?", a grin broke over his face and then his eyes went wide as he really considered it. He was having a revelation of sorts right in front of my eyes. "Sadhus don't work,"he protested.
"But Shadhu is just a label you've created in your mind. There's no reason why you couldn't continue considering your life even as you were working, especially if it was an easy job, like watchman or night clerk."
His expression was like that of a child and I could read his feelings as easily as eating a piece of fruit. He smiled warmly at me. "I will have to consider all this. Its very exciting. You.....you talk like a Shadhu. Are you a Shadhu?
"No," I pause and whispered conspiratorially, "I'm a gypsy."