Journey to the Heart of Baba's Sundarbans Work-1

  Sundarbans, West Bengal, India
Friday, February 15, 2008

I am on my way into the most remote, pristine and impoverished regions of the Sundarbans to visit villages that are being revitalized by Baba's Women's and Farmer's Self Help Groups, schools and medical treatment. With me are Baba, Amilendu (Baba's Director of Rural Projects), and Santanu (my translator). It is a multi-legged journey, beginning with a 2-hour drive east of Kolkata by car that has dropped us literally at the end of the road. We are met by 2 men, Krippashintu, a renowed and revered teacher throughout the entire region, and another man. The second man, with a distinctive face, maintains a prayerful silence and appears to be a sadhu.

Classic India

They escort us to a small black boat where they have laid blankets out for us to sit on during this part of our journey down one of the large rivers of the Sundarbans.

India: Land of Contrasts

The Sundarbans are a region comprised of wide, spreading fingers of land formed over millennia by delta deposits of a number of Himalayan rivers, including the Ganges. The land is separated by expansive rivers and 28 islands that pepper the rivers and the uppermost Bay of Bengal. This is a very poor region that is utterly neglected by the state government. The government announces programs that are short-lived and purely political in motivation, but most of the funds, if they are ever spent at all, are ineffectively managed and do little to deliver real benefit the local population.

Other NGOs come, but they go just as quickly because of the difficulties in managing programs in areas that are so remote and without even basic services. Baba and his organization, Lokenath Divine Life Mission, are deeply revered here because they have been working here since 1987, making a true difference in people's lives and in the welfare of entire communities. We are going into the southern Sundarbans for an annual cultural celebration that is put on by people in his Self Help Groups. Baba's annual visit is the highlight of their year, so we will be inaugurating several other Self Help Group projects as well in our very full day.

The river is muddy, lined on both sides by raised slick gray-mud levies that provide a foot and bicycle path for locals traveling between hamlets of quaint, thatched roof and mud homes that are scattered all along the shore. Lots of fishing occurs from the shore and on boats. Mangrove trees, which can survive in salt-water, stand here and there between the shoreline and the low tide mark, helping to prevent erosion of the levies.

A Reflective Moment on the Boat

We are enjoying the warmth of the sun, the light flickering on the water and the intensely revivifying fresh air. We catch sight of an occasional group of migratory birds and see locals tossing or otherwise tending their fishing nets close to shore. The boat makes periodic tranquil crossings from one side of the river to the other to adjust for the currents caused by the incoming tide.

Suddenly our boatman, traveling a mite too close to the shore, drops anchor in response to several, obviously unhappy women on the levy several hundred yards back who are shouting at him. Realizing that he has caught one of their fishing nets in our propeller, he pulls in a long orange rope that we are now trailing. Then he strips to the waist, jumps overboard and dives in. He comes back up shortly and digs in a bag for a hacksaw to cut the net free. The owner of the net approaches from shore, continuing to shout at him with energetic arm gestures, ventilating her anger and frustration.

Local Drama

This goes on for about 15-20 minutes while the boatman continues to work on the net.

Knowing that Baba never carries money, I quietly offer Baba the Rs. 200 I brought with me if he needs it to compensate the woman for her loss. He motions to me and says quietly, "Let's just wait to see what settlement they come to."

Peering over the edge of the boat and seeing my white face,

Evaluating The Price She Can Extract

the owner continues arguing with the boatman for some time, as he keeps coming back up and disappearing again below the boat. Eventually a Rs. 100 figure is settled upon and paid, but then she keeps arguing for more.

Getting Close to a Settlement

Krippashintu stands up and calls to the woman to let us go in peace. She just can't bring herself to give it up, though. Finally, Krippashintu pulls his trump card and says, as he extends his hand toward Baba, "Please, this is Baba Shuddhaandaa Brahmachari Maharaj, let him be on his way". The woman immediately stops, turns to Baba, pranams and abjectly apologizes. Then she covers her eyes with the shawl of her sari and begins to cry as she turns to walk away, embarrassed that she had vented so much anger in front of a saint and is afraid he will think badly of her. Baba, of course, understands and doesn't judge her in the least, but she has no way to know that.

We continue on for another half hour along the river before arriving at a large, rusting metal dock, where Baba is rushed by an enthusiastic crowd who have been waiting to welcome him. They are pranaming, the women are ululating in celebration, sounding a conch. The energy is intense. We are led to a bicycle rickshaw that takes us a short distance into the heart of the village. A procession is formed, walking us through several blocks.

Mobbed With Love

I am ushered along by the sheer momentum and emotional intensity without a clue as to where I am or where I am going. The crowd just gets bigger and more enthusiastic.

Hundreds of people are here crowded onto the narrow street. They are chanting, pranaming, ululating, with the sound of conches being sounded all around us. Baba is mobbed by the adoring crowd as women pranam, throw flowers on his head, garland him, offer him a puja tray of candies and sweets and flowers. They garland me as well. It is a rapturous, beautiful party. These people obviously love this man and are deeply grateful for the difference that he has made in their lives and community. The outpouring of love and good feeling flows generously from the people to Baba and from Baba to them, all of which radiates with immense tenderness and joy in Baba's face as he delicately moves forward.

Caught up in Joy

I am rushed up a narrow flight of stairs to a small room that is teeming with about 100 more people. Baba eventually makes his way through the crowd and up the stairs. Still with flower petals in his hair, he offers puja (a ritual offering of prayers, incense, flowers, candies & burning lamp) at a small altar with Baba Lokenath's photo.

Puja Dedicating New Village Computer Lab

We are here to dedicate a computer lab, the first of its kind in the area. Two computers wrapped in red ribbon stand against the far wall.

Standing Room Only

I am asked to come stand by Baba as he cuts the ribbon. He cuts the ribbon with a prayer, then signs on to the 1st computer, and types the first words: Jai Baba Lokenath! Jai Baba Lokenath! Jai Baba Lokenath! ...and then his personal blessing. Thunderous applause, more ululating erupt. Conch shells sound again.

Baba Boots Up

A Child Pranams & Gives Baba Flowers

We are ushered to the head table where a stunningly beautiful and sweet young boy presents Baba with flowers, then each of us are presented with a bouquet. At the head table with us are a local swami, a regional bank officer, and another prominent community member (I didn't catch his name or position, since I don't speak Bengali). A sound system amplifies everything for those who are outside and cannot fit into the relatively small room that is now standing room only.

The Crowd Outside

The swami welcomes me as a "not as foreigner, but as one who has come home to India, as one of our own." (People always receive me with such overwhelming attention, gracious warmth and kindness here that it is actually embarrassing.) The story, though, is the computer center and all that it will mean to those in this village who will now learn to use it at the classes that will be taught here. The other speakers praise Baba and LDLM, their longstanding effort and all they have accomplished for the local community here. Baba promises the crowd that this is only the beginning, there will be many more such centers in other villages as well.

As we leave, the crowd goes wild. Jubilation is palpable as Baba distributes Prasad (blessed food that has been offered to God) in the street. Then we are loaded onto 2 waiting motored van rickshaws and are off to our next stop (we have 4 or 5 to make before arriving at the major celebration this evening, which will be attended by 5,000 people).

Deep Tissue Massage - Van Rickshaw Style

Little did I know when I was first so enchanted by van rickshaws and wrote about them in my first blog on the Sundarbans (Entry 11), that I would soon be bouncing along remote, single-lane brick roads with my feet dangling over the side of one and my skirt wrapped around my legs to avoid having it burned and/or blackened by motor's exhaust pipe.

Bringing Up the Rear

The View at Roofline

Bending below the informally tied and taped, hanging layers of plastic-wrapped-over-iron roof to see the tranquil scenery around us is not as simple as one would imagine. Intense, constant jostling is sending wave after crashing wave of vibrations slamming their way back and forth through my body. One would never need a massage riding one of these regularly. Just hanging on is a job in itself. I find myself wondering which has the greater impact - the ruts in the road or the loudly sputtering motor as it hammers away, struggling to propel our overburdened, wooden platformed, three wheeler down the road.

Life on a Human Scale

The trees lining the road are airy enough to give a clear view of the surrounding expanses of rice-stubbled fields. Many are dotted with grazing cattle and goats and occasional clusters of migratory birds. Green trees line the horizon in every direction Other, smaller, wetter plots of land are being replanted with new and tender, lushly vibrant, emerald green rice shoots. People walk quietly along the road.

Serenity Along a Sundarban Rd

Small groups of women, with their saris tied up between their legs, stand ankle deep in water, with their legs straight, fully bent at the hip, reaching into the watery soil as they deposit row after perfect row of new plantings. The brilliant young green of these rice fields gladdens the heart.

Stubbled Rice Field

There is a deep peace to the land and scenery here. Beautiful little mud and thatched houses are clustered in fields, beside the
road, next to ponds. They

Mud & Thatched Roof Houses

are noticeably, perfectly clean. Living in the countryside here looks more pleasant than the city to be sure, though economic survival is tenuous. Frequently standing next to houses are round, hut sized structures of golden grain stalks, presumably to feed cattle and goats and to make thatched roofs.

Villagers Waiting for Baba

On the ground near the houses, newly harvested rice is laid out on large sheets of bright blue plastic to dry in the sun.

Woman Resting Near Drying Rice

I am very aware of just how privileged I am to be here at all. Hardly any whites are privileged to make their way this far into this rural area of Bengal. And if they do, they are not able to have the personal contact with the people that I am afforded by coming with Baba.

Next: A Work Worthy of its Name & the People it Serves