Finally, I’m In Nepal

You’d think by now that feeling “this is unbelievable” would be more elusive, but it continues to manifest with regularity.

I’m in a Nepali ashram, a real one this time, and now after 2+ months it feels like I’m finally experiencing the real Nepal, as opposed to getting a glimpse of it through the lens of the tourist.

The guru is currently away teaching in Lumbini (the birthplace of Siddartha Gotama – the Buddha) for about a week; precise time and dates of return are not how it works here. Despite a fair amount of room only a few people live here, 2 of whom (the guru and his attendant) are not here right now.

Except for 2 local women who come during the day to cook and clean, I am the only woman here. The men are all treating me as an equal, as a guest. This is such a contrast to my experiences at Theravadan Buddhist monasteries in Thailand (see the other blog entry). 

Yesterday was Nepali New Year (2070) so the cook had the day off. A few boys from the ashram school made dinner. 5 boys ranging in age from about 10 to 15, myself and Chanendra a very interesting and intelligent Nepali man who lives at the ashram and teaches at the school were present.

The boys served my food, insisted on washing my dish for me. Today at lunch was just myself and Rakesh, another Nepali man I had a wide ranging conversation with yesterday. As is the case in Buddhist monastic settings, there is an order in which people receive food. After Gunjan Brahmachari (he seems to be the one who looks after things) ate, Rakesh turned to me and said “I defer to you, you go first”.

Then this evening (there is food offered around noon and again around 7pm here – and I do mean those as approximate times) Gunjan Brahmachari heated the food and served it to me. No one else was eating because there was a festival and he and the boys ate somewhere else. 

Firstly, it was incredibly generous to offer me food at all when I was the only one eating. Secondly, the fact that a monk was alone with a woman and was serving me was deeply surprising after all the time I’ve spent with Buddhist monastics.

By contrast, when Ayya and I were at Wat Phan Nanachat in Thailand we went to enter a structure where a dhamma talk was to be given. Although in Thailand, the monastery is a branch of Wat Nong Pah Pong (remember my skirt?) and was created to teach Westerners and ordain Western men. As Ayya and I started to walk up a short set of stairs the American monk informed us quite clearly that these were the monk’s stairs and we women needed to go use the other ones.

I’ve never been served by men in this way, it really got my attention. I suspect it has something to do with me being a Westerner. I’ve observed how the Nepali women defer to men; walking a little behind them sometimes, serving the men first, so it is not as though there is gender equality here. Which makes the way I am being treated by the men I’ve encountered at this ashram even more remarkable.

Gunjan speaks English very well so we were able to have a real conversation, mostly about spiritual things. I’m generalizing here but what I’ve observed, both in the US and here, is that Hindus laugh a lot more then Buddhists.

It was just he and I in the room that servers as the kitchen; trying to explain the experience of being there is an attempt to describe the indescribable but I’ll try.   

Dark outside, the room dimly lit by one blub, I sat on the floor on a narrow straw mat. He sat on a bench on the wall to my left. He with long black hair, long black beard, white hat and white tunic.

The kitchen is very old, rectangular about 5 feet wide and 8 feet long with a low ceiling. You can see the wood boards in the ceiling (beams would be far too grand a description), cement floor, brick and cement walls, dirty by American standards. You enter through a low doorway, and you take your shoes off prior to entry.

There are 2 propane fueled burners used for cooking, a set of shelves where the dishes are stored, a small cabinet for spices. It smells faintly of manure depending on the direction of the wind.

There is also a fairly small hole in the wall obscured by a plastic bag hanging from a nail which covers the hole. I know this because I looked up just in time to see a LONG rat’s tail disappear into the hole. Gunjan saw it too and he jumped up to look. When we left he said “now we can leave the kitchen to the mouse”.

I laughed and said “mice are little, that was a rat!”. He laughed and said they get as big as cats, the cats don’t want anything to do with them. I just laughed and said “neither do I” !

Receiving food in this way, served at approximate times and happily accepting whatever is offered, reminds me of the monastic life lived by the Bhikkhunis. It is an odd feeling to have absolutely no control over the food you eat, it is a sense of surrender.

From a health standpoint I do have some level of trepidation about eating the food here but I eat what is offered with gratitude. I can recognize the rice and the dal, the other items are a mystery (at least there is one common experience between my time here and in the Thai monasteries). They are vegan here so it really doesn’t matter to me what is served. 

Although odd sometimes, it always just feels good to receive the generosity of others and to be easily contented. Makes for a much more peaceful life.