View from the Pier

Serendipity, curiosity, karma, and coincidence are some of the ways in which the phenomenon of wonder manifests itself in my life.  Crossing paths with Dr. Kam Srikameswaran was and continues to be just such an experience. Kam, age 74, is a Canadian residing in North Vancouver, British Columbia and was born in India.

Our very introduction was a “random” event.  I had approached a reporter I worked with in my “past life” for a referral to someone who might be willing to assist me on a story about pilgrimage.  She put me in touch with Kam, an old family friend of hers.

Months afterwords, honoring the wishes of an ill parent loomed large for me and I experienced no small amount of confusion and doubt—which, I realized only later, are in fact also attributes of the state of “wonder.”

Then, through a circuitous turn of events, which included admitting to myself I didn’t always have the answers, Kam and I re-connected.  This column is the result. (photographs are courtesy of  Dr. Kam Srikameswaran)

Meg: How long has it been since you lived in India?

Kam: I have lived in Canada for over four decades.

Meg: When was the last time you visited India?

Kam: After a niece’s wedding in February 2008, my wife Lalitha and I flew to New Delhi and then traveled to Varanasi. For me, it was much more of a sentimental journey. About seventy years ago, when I was five, my devout parents, orthodox brahmins, arrived here on pilgrimage, with me in tow. This was a revisit for me and an occasion to remember my parents, long gone! I thought of it as a way of performing their Sraaddha, a celebration of their memories.

Meg: What is Sraddha?

Kam: It’s pronounced “Shraaddha” – Ah! English with its inconsistent and inadequate phonetics! The word’s translation in Sanskrit is “that which is done with commitment or devotion.”  Of course, these words do not mean much without the relevant background.

When a Hindu–or a Buddhist–dies, his or her soul is reborn unless it has evolved to perfection – a state referred to as Moksha in Hinduism or Nirvana in Buddhism, meaning liberation. Each birth is an opportunity to improve the soul’s status by good conduct, fulfillment of one’s responsibilities, etc. During the period between death and rebirth it lives in an interim world of ancestors called Pitrloka. In this interim state, souls need sustenance and this can only be provided by the living descendants of the dead. A ritualistic ceremony called Shraddha is performed by the first son of the deceased every year, until his own death, on the anniversary of the parent.

My father did Shraddha for his parents every year as prescribed by Hindu scriptures. I did not and do not honor my parents in the same way, because my interpretation of Shraddha is a lot more simplistic. For me, those two days of each year have become days of remembrance, with love and respect.

Meg: Were you at geographic distance when your parents died?

Kam: I was near my dad in Mumbai when he suffered a stroke. I could only be with him for a few days; I had to return to Canada to keep my job. My mother attended to my father, whose mind was gone, for several months until he passed away. I returned for his funeral. And I went back for the first anniversary of his death to perform my Shraadha for him. My mother joined me in Canada and died in my home, once again after a stroke.

Meg: How long ago did they die?

Kam: My father passed away 35 years ago and my mother 24 years ago.

Meg: Did your parents’ deaths cause you to consider your own mortality?

Kam: I was always aware of my mortality and my parents passing did not add to it.   Life, living and death are natural events.

Meg: Where in India did your sentimental journey take you?

Kam: Our intent was to visit Varanasi, Haridwar, and Rishikesh. We had no time for Gaya.

Meg: Is Gaya significant in any way?

Kam: Gaya is just a small town by a river, not too distant from Varanasi. The significance of this place is that, if a Shraddha ceremony is done here, one expedites his parent’s quest for Moksha. My father did this for his parents during his own pilgrimage 70 years ago, with me towing along. I did not go there during my journey.

Meg: What was the significance of a visit to Varanasi?

Kam: For a devout Hindu, taking a dip in the river Ganges at Varanasi is the ultimate shortcut to Moksha – liberation from the cycle of births and deaths. The waters cleanse him of his sins, relieve his Karmic obligations and hasten his quest for absorption into Brahma, the Universal spirit. After the dip, he must visit the temple of “Viswanatha” on the rivers’ bank, in symbolic gratitude for his deliverance.

Meg: I have a basic understanding of the idea of “karma” and what I understand of it seems to be a phenomenon I can observe in my own life.  How do you define “karma?”

Kam: Karma means action in Sanskrit. It is closely associated with the cycle of births and deaths and reincarnation.

One connected word is reincarnation. I interpret reincarnation in my own way. which is – since we are born of Carbon, Hydrogen, Nitrogen, Sulfur, Iron, Calcium, Phosphorous and Oxygen, etc. which are abundant on the earth’s crust, they reconstitute and generate new life from the debris of old life. It may not be as comforting to those who like to be reborn in toto with the same soul. My interpretation supports the concept that we are all the same, just temporary manifestations from the same stuff.

Karma is what you do. Not what you experience! Some interpret Deja Vu as a revelation of Karma from a previous life and call it karmic memory and experience.  I have experienced Deja Vu, trivial ones, but rarely. Maybe explorations of the mind would explain Deja Vu.

Meg: Can you describe your visit to Varanasi?

Kam: My wife and I rode a gentle boat on calm waters gazing at the miles long bank of stone steps along the river. This was mother Ganges, Ma Ganga, considered the well spring of Hindu civilization. Flights of steps descend, from a potpourri of pilgrimage lodges, to the water. Men and women, some fully clothed, glisten in wetness.

Our boat glides past Hanuman Ghat, the flight of stairs my parents chose for their own dip into these holy waters. Seventy years ago, so did I.  But today, I could not bring myself to do this! My mind visualized untreated effluents in the water and the risk of disease. In compromise, I cup my palm, gather some water and sprinkle it over my head – a traditional substitute for a dip. Had I been devout, I would have had my dip and risked death by disease at this holy site. My prize would have been Moksha – the Hindu equivalent of Buddhist Nirvana. The irony was that I, though old, preferred my healthy life to eternal liberation.

The next step was a visit to the holy shrine of “Viswanatha”. Our well remunerated guide leads us safely through narrow streets to its portal.  Our shoes are guarded by a shopkeeper, flowers and a container of milk are thrust into our hands and a local panda (priest) is commanded to lead us to the deity, with an ominous warning to watch one’s wallet and jewelry.

Our payment to the guide works its charm. We are hustled unfairly past lines of waiting devotees squeezed front to back, whisked past pawing security guards and pushed into a narrow chapel overflowing with people. We peer over heads, thrust our hands between bodies and place flowers on the barely visible head of a lingam drowning in milk and water. A squatting priest takes our currency offering and secures it deftly under his seat and we move on, pushed out by the crush of devotees behind. It had taken us all of 30 seconds. We exit, we pay the shopkeeper, the panda who took us through the maze and other outstretched palms for invisible services.

Our awareness had been more on our wallets, valuables and the throng, rather than god Viswanatha. For us, this experience was not prayer, not meditation, and certainly not an opportunity for communion with god. This was a business in the guise of faith.

Meg: How was the visit to Haridwar?

Kam: We felt a bit better at Haridwar where the Ganges flows rapidly after its recent descent from the Himalayas. Our residence was an antique, a small charming palace of a local ruler – a place more conducive to introspection and reflection – especially when one walks over to the rear of the palace. Steps from its back porch descend into the rapids. A brahmin priest chants, performs his daily rituals and is comforting just to watch.

At sunset, we walk past crowded rows of colorful merchandise and souvenirs to the main gathering place on the river. Thousands squat on its bank and on a small built up island meters across the water. I stand at the back of the sitting crowd to watch the Arati, the evening worship with oil lamps. Bells clang, priests chant and, to a song in praise of Mother Ganges, thousands of lamps wave in as many hands. Many lamps, adorned with blossoms, are set afloat in the water. And they bob past rapidly downstream. Soon, it is a procession of floating lamps lighting up the river accompanied by a song of prayer, joined in chorus by the assemblage.

I glance across the water and stare at that particular set of steps on the bank across. I see the same steel hand rails and security chain and the steps into the water where I took an icy cold dip with my dad. Seventy years ago, there was an overpopulation of fish right there; my father tried to part them for my dip and to dissuade them from attacking a scab on my wounded knee.

The sights and sounds of Haridwar that day were the highlights of my pilgrimage.

Meg: What was next?

Kam:A short ride from there took us to Rishikesh, at the Himalayan foothills where the river flows clean and clear. The town is a traditional sanctuary of yogis and holy men. We walked though Ashrams, refuges for those seeking a spiritual life. We learn of their disciplined and spartan lifestyle, yogic pursuits and works of charity. Our time here is too short to participate and feel its spiritual ambiance. To reach these Ashrams, we had crossed the Ganges by walking along the landmark “Lakshman Joola”, a swinging bridge originally built by the mythical Lakshmana to help his brother Rama. Today, it is a utilitarian narrow structure of steel and wood, a busy thoroughfare for both humans and animals. Seventy years ago, it was a less secure bridge, walking on which scared my mother.

Meg: Did you go anywhere else on this journey of devotion?

Kam: My Hindu parents did not include the Buddhist site Sarnath in their pilgrimage. But this place where from Buddha delivered his first sermon, 2500 years ago, was in mine! Not that I was defying my parents by leaning towards a different faith. After all, Buddhism was just a child of Hinduism. Some even think of Buddha as one of the ten incarnations of Vishnu. I am a Hindu by birth, not a Buddhist! That does not imply that I am either one or the other by practice. Nor do I profess to any other formal faith.

Meg: What is Vishnu?

Kam: A simplistic description would be that he is the god who preserves and protects social and individual harmony. He is the middle member of a trinity of Hindu gods, the others being Brahma, the creator god and Siva, the destroyer. (These three top the Hindu pantheon). Implicit in this trinity is the cycle of creation, existence and termination – over and over again. Philosophical Hinduism is monotheistic – God is the absolute and transcends human description, because humans are just a ‘part’ and therefore cannot comprehend the ‘whole’. In practice, most Hindus confine themselves to pantheism conceived by mythology. Anthropomorphic images are easier to relate to and one can choose one’s favorite deity.

Meg: Can you describe the visit to Sarnath?

Kam: Sakyamuni is the Buddhist name for the original Buddha born in India in the 6th century BCE. Muni means ascetic and Sakya is the name of the royal dynasty into which Buddha was born.

I could feel respect and veneration for this Sakyamuni who sought paths to happiness for all.  While walking around this deer park, the sight of the enormous two thousand year old Dhamekh Stupa, stirred me.   Just then, like a flash, it occurred to me! Is it a coincidence that the phallic shape of the Hindu lingam is not too different from the shape of this Stupa?

Lingam is a symbolic figure, usually of Siva. It has a cylindrical shape with a hemispherical top. It sits on a scooped out circular dais, with an opening to the side. It’s simple form is un-engaging to focus on. But it serves as an object to focus through to contemplate the absolute.

Stupa means mound and has the same shape as a lingam, at least in Varanasi. Many stupas also hold the relics of the Buddha. Dharma in Sanskrit means the righteous way of living; the Pali equivalent is Dhamma. Dhamek as an adjective implies righteousness.

Both are uninteresting similar forms, just different in size. Both serve as focus objects for meditators who seek sensual awareness without mental involvement. Even if this lingam form is interpreted as a phallus seated on female genitalia, it is a more profound symbol for the awesome creative energy of the universe. Such were my musings when I saw this Stupa. Perhaps it has turned out to be a spiritual pilgrimage, after all, without such intent!

Meg: What kind of emotions did this trip conjure up for you?

Kam: I saw myself as a little boy again in the protective cocoon of my parents and that feeling was comforting.

Meg: How would you characterize your faith or spirituality?

Kam: I do not know.  I love life, all of it, yours and mine, every form of it and the miracle that I have a mind to be aware of it.  All of us are born of the stars and are part of this “universe”, though just fleeting manifestations in space-time. My love of non-life and its forms is not any less. I am truly awestruck at the enormity and workings of our universe and with what I understand of it – even if limited by the range of my senses. This wonder, this amazement suffices as faith or spirituality for me. Let your semantics decide what it is.

Kam shared his responses with me a few short hours after the new movie on this site “Visions of Wonder,” was finalized. At that time, we also learned we would both be in Barcelona in July!

For more information on Hindu Funeral Rites and Ancestor Worship visit http://www.sanskrit.org/www/Samskaras/ancestors5.html