Saturday January 21 2:17 PM
This is my first full day at the Meher Pilgrim Retreat Center, lovingly referred to as the MPR. We arrived yesterday afternoon after 2 days of travel. Kristin, Mira, Charlie, and I left Portsmouth around 5 in the afternoon on the C&J bus. While our plane wasn’t due to leave until 10:00 PM, we chose to leave early because both Kristin and Mira needed wheelchairs. Kristin tore her meniscus about a week or so ago and Mira broke her tibia on a fall on black ice about a month ago. She’s been operated on and is recovering well now. I actually tested myself for covid about 6 days before departure only to learn I was positive. I was shocked and dismayed, I had symptoms of a cold, sore throat, and congestion…much like Gaby and Aayan, altho’ they tested negative twice. So here I was with mildish symptoms supposedly getting on a plane. I instantly got myself some paxlovid and started it in hopes my symptoms would quiet, and I’d be good to go. Fortunately, that’s precisely what happened. I tested myself the day before departure and the double line was faint and I took that to mean while positive, it was on its way out. I could legitimately go out in public with a mask, so that’s indeed what I did. I wore my mask the entire way to India and then 6 more hours in a car. It was unpleasant to be masked all that time, but better not to pass on any germs or to get any others.
The 7 hour flight to Amsterdam was easy. Hardly anyone was on the plane so once we lifted off we could all shift and find other seats with spaces between. I took a 2 seater far away from anyone and from time to time lifted off my mask so I could breathe. The layover in Amsterdam was only 3 hours and the plane to India was in fact jammed…every seat taken…While being short is often times a deficit on planes it is perfect. I have enough leg room, although elbow room is of a premium. This trip was about 10ish hours, although it seemed interminable. I slept off and on, but mostly off. I’d slept several hours on the previous flight, so wasn’t that tired. While the flight was rather boring, the entry into India was not. Mira and Kristin were placed in wheel chairs and a young man grabbed both with one hand on each and began running very fast through the terminal. Charlie and I ran behind trying to keep up or at least to keep an eye on where he was taking them. Once we got into the large hall where everyone was to line up for customs and passport/visa checks, Charlie ran off to the bathroom and that is the last we saw of him for over an hour. Our guy once again grabbed the chairs and ran as fast as he could to the far end of the room with me rushing behind. He placed us in a line with no people…shocking…we were taken into the line easily and our papers checked and we were through the line lickety split….maybe good maybe not. We were early through, but we had to wait for Charlie to catch up with us…after an hour we went looking for him and Mira hobbled around on her boot and found him still stuck in a line waiting to have his papers checked. We had already found our own luggage but couldn’t find his. Once he got through, our young man magically appeared to get us out of the terminal. We had a driver waiting for us somewhere. The wheelchairs took off and now Charlie and I each had a cart to wheel out of the terminal filled to the brim with baggage. Our guy made sure we were right behind him including asking a large Indian family to move off so we could continue to be behind him. We were almost at the end, when I saw the X-ray machine. Were our bags going to be rechecked? Was I going to have to lift them off, why? But no, they just wanted our handbags to go through the machine again. I was having trouble trying to get to my handbag and instead my guy said something to the man at the machine and they both waved me through…so much for security I say! We were now in the lobby and some man, who turned out to be our driver appeared and grabbed Charlie’s cart…and there we were at the threshold of the outer door. I have lots of memories of my past visits to India…the airport was small, dingy, and not very clean…the exit door seemed threatening actually…There were people outside that door, right up to it. I was going to have to walk out into a sea of people, some with signs, some not…clearly taxi drivers hoping for a fare, people waiting for a family member, and as I had been warned, pickpockets and people who are eager to take your bags…The airport now in 2023 was by far different, clean, modern, sculptures, and architectural beauty, white and squeaky clean…but here was the door to the outside. There I was with my cart and the doors were opened…I could see mist…it seemed foggy…there were no people clamoring out there…I got teary because the truth was I was here…I was in India…in that moment it felt overwhelmed and emotional. I hesitated at the door, but then I had no choice but to follow this guy and my traveling companions with the rest of our baggage. And there I was…not outside but in an outside courtyard…And in the courtyard was this little building that looked like a tiny diner and it said KFC!! I said KFC, what’s That doing here? And my teary mood dissipated into Wow, life’s really changed here…The courtyard was clean, there were bistro tables where I could have eaten my Kentucky fried chicken…uh no way! And we still had another door to the real world outside. This time however, the hordes of people were behind a gate, we were not besieged. Instead Kailash, our driver led us into the new parking garage and to his van.
A Six Hour Car Ride to Meherabad & Aragoan Village
While all cars in India have brakes, they don’t seem to be used much, rather the horn is the “brake” so to speak. In the dark of night or of early morning, the headlight beams are blinked from high to low beam to mean, move over I’m coming! There are mostly 2 or 3 lane highways now, but if you want, you can move around and create your own lane. There are no breakdown lanes. I wondered what would happen if ones car did have a problem…what do you do if there’s no shoulder…I suppose create a traffic mess! Fortunately that never happened.
So we left the airport. In times past, there were miles and miles of horrific slums with homes created out of whatever material a person could find. The sanitation was abysmal, and the stench overwhelming. I seem to recall they were all removed…where did all those people go? I did see remnants of homemade slums during our ride in different towns. Instead our ride through the quiet streets of Mumbai at that early time of the morning were filled with piles of rubbish in mounds scattered here and there…few people were on the streets and all the shops were closed and the streets dark and somber looking. Once outside the city, we reached the Ghats, the mountainous windy roads. We were surrounded by a parade of trucks of every size imaginable. They all seemed laden with products of all types, which made their drive up the mountains difficult and slow. Kailash was eager to make his own path at higher speeds and so his horn and his lights were constantly sounding or flashing. Move over…I’m a comin’ as he wove his way around all these slow moving heavy trucks. I was surprisingly calm and just decided, he knew what he was doing…he looked confident, and I was going to see tomorrow!
Several hours into our drive, Kailash pulled over into a gas station that had a big restaurant that flashed the sign southern Indian food! Ahhhhhh…Masala Dosa, Idli, and Chai…we ate that a lot while traveling around India back in 1996. The Chai was amazing. Piping hot and sweet. I was in heaven!
I tried several times to take photos of passing shops filled with bright yellow bananas and fruits of all varieties, women in beautiful saris…temples. It all went by so fast, most of my photos were just blurs. Each eyeful however thrilled me and I thought about how soon I’d be able to walk through streets like that slowly and thoughtfully taking in every moment. We were finally in Meherabad and nothing looked the same. There’s the new retreat center which is magnificent, the old MPC, the Pilgrim Center was now the admin building. Whenever I dreamed of Meherabad, that building and its surroundings were in my dreams…now it’s so different…The little narrow road in front of the Center is a highway…there’s a tunnel that’s been built under the road so you can get to the other side….it’s built up, it’s bustling in ways we could have only imagined back in the 90s.
By the time I was at the MPR, I was so jet lagged, my brain could only take in little bits. I managed to get to my single room, unpack and do as they said, lock this , lock that and head into the dining hall for some lunch which I could barely eat and then rest…which turned into a long nap until I managed to jump up and walk to Meher Baba’s tomb for prayers and music…I probably shouldn’t have gone. The walk takes about 10 minutes or so…I felt a bit off kilter, but I was determined to go. I stood in line to pay my respects to Baba at the tomb and found a way to sit on bleacher type benches…that’s when I realized I was definitely off. I was swaying to the music, but kept reminding myself not to pitch forward and fall off the bench…I needed to get back, maybe eat some dinner and then crash. I managed to do all of that…not before getting lost finding my room, not a unusual thing for me…geographically challenged that I am…a woman saw me walking around in a daze and she brought me to my room and then crash I did…I slept like a stone and woke up refreshed.
I’m taking an easy day…another little walk to the tomb, listening to the music…mostly sung in Hindi, or Marathi, I have no idea, but loving the sound of the music, the beating of the tablas, the sound of the harmonium, It all feels special.…I spent time with Kristin at her cottage, sitting and sipping tea and chatting. I walked back another 15 minutes down the pathways for lunch, I had a lovely conversation with a new made friend, and now rest and writing…not the most interesting blog to read, but that’s where I’m at at the moment. Taking it slow…looking at the flowers, listening to the birds, soaking up the sun and enjoying being in a new culture and in a new place. My transition from being a working women to being a retired woman exploring her options.
Here’s a fruit stall that we passed once we were out of Mumbai. The a mountain silhouette in the distance as we drove through the ghats. More store stalls.
Tuesday Jan 24
Today is Meherazad Day! Meherazad is where the mandali (the i sounds like an e) lived. They are all gone now so I knew that going there would feel different, but wasn’t quite sure what to expect. What I noticed right away was how beautiful it still is.. Flowers are everywhere…. Everything looks bright and cheery and clean. There were many Western Women who greeted us. They are essentially museum docents now. When I was here 27 years ago, most of the Mandali were alive and living there, so we could visit only certain places. We sat on the porch and listened to Mani tell stories, people sang songs, we were able to visit Baba’s room, but I don’t remember much else….Now we are brought into even Baba’s wash room…The buckets He used for His bucket baths were on display as were his razor for shaving and tooth brush. After He and Mehera dropped their bodies, Dr. Goher used it as storage for her medicines. The women now tell stories and clarify what was done where. It will become more and more of a museum as time passes and these women, who took care of the mandali in their elder years, also pass on. Davana was in Mandali Hall sharing stories about Eruch. That perhaps was the hardest part for me, not having Eruch sitting on a pillow against the wall, next to the window, one leg knee up, the other crossed in half lotus…telling his stories as he did about Baba and his experiences with him. I loved listening to him and as Davana noted everything was about Baba and never about himself.
The drive to Meherazad took about 40 minutes or so through Ahmednager…I don’t’ remember Nagar being so huge. It has obviously grown and morphed over the last 27 years. Change is of course the only constant. I continue to be taken by the colorful vegetable and fruit stands and the beautifully decorated trucks, the women’s saris and selwar camise they wear, but I’m also horrified by the mountains of trash on the sides of the roadways. You’d think that with all the people here many of whom need jobs that the government could establish a roadside maintenance crew and program to beautify the roadways with plantings…and have large receptacles for trash and for food waste. I figure that if you see this trash day after day that eventually, you don’t really see it anymore…it’s just part of what is normal. It should not be. I wish it weren’t, but it is and it’s not my country, so I suppose I should not judge…and let that go!
I didn’t do much of note today…I woke early and washed up, managed to open my emails which was a miracle, and then ran off to have morning tea. I sat with David and Danny and ultimately walked up to the Samadhi with David…enjoyed my time there…had breakfast, left for Meherazad…came back, relaxed well maybe not so relaxing because I couldn’t get on line as I wished….then had tea again and conversation with some new people. It was one of those not so active days. I Learned how important it will be not to carry anything around on Amertithi and how apparently there are “professional thieves” who come on to the property and take advantage of the hordes of people and the festivities. They will take whatever they can including shoes…so I’ll wear my sandals that are covered with dust and look pretty ratty…my other shoes are probably too good looking to wear, but they are not great for walking a distance anyway, so hopefully my ratty ones don’t get taken…sigh….but at least I’ve been warned. I’ll figure out how to manage all that. It’s too bad that we have to think about these sorts of things during this celebration, but the good and the bad seem to walk side by side wherever we are…I guess our job is to be prepared, keep our eyes open, and let in the good, and avoid the bad as is possible
Some of the gardens in Meherazad
Thursday January 26th.
I’m just back from Kristin and Charlie’s house. Kristin and I played our Ukuleles together and I just need to practice chord transitions and remember what they are…I washed a few clothes and they remain wet, so I won’t wash anything else until these dry or are close to dry.
Yesterday, Kristin, Mira and I went to Nager to shop at the Big Bizarre…this is large many storied store that has everything from clothes to food and whatever else. I did not manage to get through the whole store…way too much sensory overload. But we went to see the ready made clothing. I only bought 2 pants…more like tights and Mira found several things she likes…We went on to Anil, the tailors home and shop and I bought myself a ready made outfit and will next time bring some clothes I wish him to copy and I can find materials either with him or elsewhere for him to use. I went to Anils the last time I was here…he’s still happily tailoring for the many people who come to the Retreat Center after all these years.
Driving into Ahmadnagar in a car was quite the treat. We hit a roundabout with dozens of cars moving into the circle…it all looked chaotic and a little dangerous, especially for all the motor scooter drivers, however in the end, the chaos had its pattern and everyone knew the rules. I suspect there are more people who are injured or die at the Portsmouth traffic circle than here even tho’ it looks far more dicey. The check out lines to pay were similarly chaotic at the bizarre…but once again everyone knew the rules. We were actually waved to an empty line or so it seemed, but some man and his son stood in front of me while the clerk took my goods…eventually the man’s wife arrived with a cart and they then got priority after me, so that Kristin and Mira had to wait. Stores no longer can use plastic bags. I was thrilled…however I didn’t bring my bag, so I had to carry my not so many items in my arms and wait for our driver to bring the car to us. What a difference no plastic bags makes in this country. I remember how many bags would fly with the wind everywhere. There would be hundreds, maybe thousands in fields and on the sides of the roads…but no more. So the country IS doing something to make a difference for the environment.
We had dinner out at a friend’s house. They have lived on the trust property for at least 20 years. The house is beautiful…the dinner scrumptious. They gave us some chicken…no meat allowed at the retreat center and certainly no alcohol, but at David’s home, we were given wine…The conversation was interesting and deep, allowing us to share more of ourselves with each other. It was very sweet. I wish I had taken some photos of the house, but another time…I suspect we’ll visit there again. The few photos I took this time were not terribly good…I’m hoping after Amertithi, I’ll be able to go into Nagar and just walk around casually and take photos as I go. My camera was in my bag when a parade of beautifully clad men were playing drums, a few young boys were on horseback and a car with some Hindu deity was being driven behind. It was colorful with lots of energy…I’ll just have to remember it in my minds eye and everyone else will have to imagine 15 or so men clad in bright orange and silver trimmed outfits with bright orange head coverings walking 3 or 4 abreast playing the drums…it was very lively and fun.
Last night it rained…I heard light rain patter in the night, but didn’t give it much attention, but walking to the Samadhi was very different…the soft dusty trail was more packed and the path did not leave any dusty markings on my feet and sandals. It was a much more pleasant walk…it was still dark out, but when the sun slowly showed itself, it rose as a huge pink and fiery orange ball in the sky just beyond the trees.
By the time I walked back for breakfast an hour later, the paths had dried out and we were once again walking on a dusty trail. While I wear my mask when in line at the Samahdi (the tomb), I’ve been advised to wear it all during Amertithi…the thousands of feet kicking up dust can cause a nasty dust lung infection. I will most definitely take that advice. I have zero interest in getting sick while here.
Lunch in the dining hall today was teeming with people, mostly Indians and many Iranians. I haven’t seen that many people in the dining hall since I’ve arrived and in fact didn’t see anyone I knew. Kristin and Charlie indicated earlier this morning that Amertithi is already in the air…It officially is Jan 31st, the day that Meher Baba died or as they say here…when He dropped His body. I can’t say I could feel Amertithi in the air since I haven’t experienced it yet, but walking through the dining hall just now gives me a flavor of things to come. I sat next to 2 Iranian men who chatted in Farsi, but spoke to me in English. Both live elsewhere…one in Toronto for the last 35 years and the other in N. Carolina…likely Asheville where many Baba lovers make their home.
