The next day, we went to Auroville, by a city bus. It took nearly 45 minutes of a bumpy ride through narrow streets; to reach there. An auto ferried us to the registration center. It took another half an hour.
En route, we saw some foreigners riding bicycles. The
auto-driver told us that these tourists often rent houses, or stay at
the center’s rooms, for weeks to many months; to get a feel of the place
and recharge their spiritual batteries! We also saw numerous cashew-nut
orchards. The auto-driver-cum-guide, told us that the trees would bear
fruit in another few months’ time.
When we reached the registration center, he informed us that he would wait for an hour for us to see the Matrimandir meditation center and return. What was left unsaid by him was understood by us! He would further charge us, for any delay! Hence we skipped the inviting cafeteria and the boutique there.
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| A model of the Auroville complex |
The receptionist politely informed us that we could visit the meditation
center only on Wednesdays. Since that day was a Tuesday, we realized
with a sinking heart that we’d miss out on that experience as we
couldn’t afford to stay there for another day, as our return tickets
were booked for the next day! However, we were relieved when he said
that we could see the meditation center from afar, from the viewing
point.
We walked around and saw an exhibition hall with information about the
Mother and her guru. Another hall was showing a video of the meditation
center, with its history’s and architecture’s narration, in great
detail. The International township project of Auroville had been
established by the Mother (Mirra Alfassa) on 28th February, 1968. The
meditation center doesn’t have images of any religious figures nor does
it have any offerings like lamps, flowers, incense, etc. Thus it’s
dedicated to the religion of humanity. One has to just concentrate on
meditating in absolute silence, there. After that 10 minute video, we
got free entry coupons to visit the viewing point.
There was a free bus-service to and from that point. (Autos are not
allowed there.) We opted for the 20 minute walk through a rough path in
the woods. We felt as though we were strolling in Mahabaleshwar, as
there was red soil all around, and dense vegetation on both sides. The
cool breeze lulled our senses as we walked briskly. The walk was
relaxing and invigorating!
The Mother’s world-wise philosophy of 12 glorious paths leading to
spiritual awakening, with virtues like kindness, compassion, courage,
etc. was enunciated on a board there. At several milestones, we came
across boards with the picture of a particular flower and the virtue
associated with it! Impressed, we hurried on, remembering the
auto-driver’s ominous warning!
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| The ancient banyan tree |
Then we came upon the huge, more than a century-old banyan tree, just outside the viewing point. I was overwhelmed on seeing it as I had seen its picture in my childhood and had always longed to actually see and touch it! I lovingly felt its sturdy, aerial roots, spread all around. The shady canopy was soothing. I imagined the Mother strolling in its benign shade, in her lifetime! I could feel peaceful vibes radiating from that well-maintained place and permeating my soul.
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| Matrimandir meditation center |
Through a short, landscaped path, surrounded by rocks, flowering champa trees and well-manicured lawns, we sighted the sparkling, golden globe-shaped structure - the meditation center. It was breath-taking; glinting like an over-sized football, in the bright sunlight. We saw several motionless figures, clad in white, under some trees. At first glance, I was taken aback, as they resembled apparitions! But then I realized that they were some foreign tourists, meditating in absolute silence.
This was in stark contrast to some of the noisy Indian tourists who were
cracking jokes and clicking snaps of that divine place. We sat down on a
rock and meditated for about 5 minutes. We used the clean washrooms,
equipped with soap and toilet paper and then hastened to the waiting
mini-bus there, which started only when it was full to its capacity. The
foreigners were with us, clad in cool white linen clothes.
We apologized to the auto-driver for the half-an-hour delay by saying
that the bus-driver had waited for everyone to come, hence we couldn’t
return in an hour! We saw several tiny boutiques selling Indian
hand-loom attire, artifacts, etc. We also saw open-air, life-size
statues of various Gods and Goddesses like Lord Ardhanarishwara, Goddess
Kali, Goddess Durga and several folk deities revered since decades, at
wayside shrines. I requested the auto-driver to halt for a few moments
and got some snaps of those unique shrines.
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| Divine retreat, tranquil repose! |
Back at the bus-stop, as we waited for a bus to return to Puducherry, we had delicious tea at a stall. On its façade this stall had tiles of Hindu, Muslim and Christian revered figures, effectively symbolizing the gist of the Mother’s teachings of universal brotherhood!
Again, after a bumpy ride, we were back at our guest-house, deciding to
revisit Auroville on some enchanting Wednesday, in future!
That evening we visited the beach. The promenade was clean and wide. No
traffic was allowed there. We watched the milk-white waves of the vast
blue Bay of Bengal, crashing against the huge boulders on the sea-shore.
Later, we sat on the steps of Mahatma Gandhi’s memorial there and
chatted awhile.
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| The Mahatma Gandhi memorial |
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| Sunset at Puducherry beach |
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| Unique wayside sculpture! |
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| The Mahatma Gandhi memorial |
As children played noisily, sliding down the sides of the memorial, several vendors were jostling with each other to sell us their wares. A jasmine vendor refused to budge and followed us around till I purchased a fragrant strand from her (although I had already worn one!).
Another lady, a self-proclaimed fortune-teller, tried her best to get us interested in her talent. But I wasn’t swayed and told her that my Dad was himself an excellent palmist. When she persisted, I requested my husband to pay her Rs.10/-, just to get rid of her annoying presence.
My trick worked and at last we were alone, but not before we had told off a small boy who was hawking his amateurish drawings! It was amusing as all the vendors were very pushy and hell-bent on harassing us as we obviously didn’t look like the localites. We must have looked like sitting ducks to them!
We watched a motor-launch, probably a fishing vessel, bobbing on the
sea- water. I wanted to watch the sea bathed in the golden rays of the
setting sun and hence urged my husband to wait some time longer. When
the sky turned orange, red and finally purplish, the sea looked splendid
with each changing color. Meanwhile lights had come on and the memorial
was bathed in neon light.
An amateur videographer was filming a small dance sequence in front of the memorial, on the promenade, with an over-sized tri-color. The 4 male dancers were wearing leaf-green T-shirts and dancing in its foreground! They performed cart-wheels and walked upside down, on their hands and then struck a Shahrukh Khan-like dancing pose, with salutes to the Nation. The Director was continuously requesting the motley onlookers to clap their hands in tune to the rhythm being belted out on a loud music-system, but he got only a lukewarm response.
We walked to a nearby park filled with couples and families. It appeared
well-maintained. Banners of the Puducherry cycle-marathon loomed on a
dais. Outside the garden, a huge crowd had gathered around a life-sized
portrait of a local politician created on the ground, with a thick
floral garland outlining it. Much ado was being made about the
‘creation’ and over-enthusiastic tourists were climbing on side-tables
and capturing it on their cameras for posterity! Fortunately (or
otherwise) my camera’s batteries gave up, just then. I mentally
apologized to that politician.
Since our short stay had ended, we couldn’t thoroughly explore the French Quarter; a
vestige of Puducherry’s famed history. The clean, former French colony,
a bustling Union Territory today; will linger on in our hearts till we
get an opportunity to explore it again.
Concluded
The copyright of this travelogue and photographs is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.
