By Richelle
Tuesday 1st of August 2017
It has taken until our final few days to receive the highest compliment on offer in this country - to be called an Indian. After 3 long months in India, we no longer take shit from tuk tuk drivers. We name the price and walk if it's not accepted. 9 times out of ten the driver will follow, puppy dog eyed, begging for 50 rupees more and explaining that 2 km is ‘VERRRRY far, very long distance Madame, very long’. At this, we again name our final price, and with resignation washing over his face, the driver waves us into the back seat and off we go. It hasn't proved more successful than our first day in Pondicherry. We arrived at La Maison Radha not long after midday, it was a beautiful guesthouse owned and run by a kind man with a large hairy belly, named Ravi. Ravi took us through his hand drawn map very thoroughly, pointing out all the best eateries, bakeries, gelato shops and churches. He also pointed out that any tuk tuk ride around the city should be no more than 50 rupees. At this, we smiled. ‘How much did you pay from the bus station?’ ‘50 rupees exactly’ we replied. Ravi’s eyes lit up with pride, ‘Ahh, you have been in India a long time, you are a real Indian now!’ It was a great moment.
Back to Pondicherry. This little seaside town is as close to France as you will get in India. It's actually split in two by a big smelly canal, the Tamil quarter to the left, French to the right. Close to the sea, the leafy streets smell of freshly baked croissants, baguettes and pastries, ‘Rue’ decorates the start of most street signs and colonial mansions sit next to each other painted in elegant shades of blue, yellow and cream. It's incredibly atmospheric, particularly in the afternoon sunlight. Our first afternoon was spent wandering around, visiting the Gandhi memorial, Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception Cathedral and the Sri Aurobindo Ashram. The ashram is actually a really interesting place, and helps to make sense of the slightly bohemian vibe that lingers over the town. Founded in 1926 by Sri Aurobindo and a French born woman known as ‘the mother’, it's the home of a spiritual community working towards ‘supramental consciousness.’ These ideas and teachings are explored on a much grander scale in a town called Auroville about 12 kms out of town, more on that later. As the sun started to set and the streets filled with fairy floss men and drum salesmen, we spent time admiring the beauty of the Ganesh temple elephant, who takes cucumbers, bananas and carrots in exchange for a good luck tap on the head. We also spent some time in the museum, which has a small but fascinating collection of treasures; Roman bowls, ancient conch shells, Vishnu bronzes and early colonial cars. The Roman presence was interesting and I later found out that a town about 4kms away had been a major trading port at the height of the Roman Empire, trading in oils and spices. For dinner that night, it was Xstasi. Wood fired pizzas that were absolutely delicious. After a budget diet of mainly dosas for the last few days, they tasted even better.
The next day we rode Ravi's scooter out of town along the east coast highway. Taking a left turn, we headed for the aforementioned town, Auroville - a 'utopia' of sorts, dreamed and designed by the mother in the early 1960’s. It's a universal, cash-free, non-religious township, committed to peace, harmony and divine consciousness - although I believe you need a bucket load of money to become a member these days. Some describe this place as self indulgent escapism, but there is something enchanting about the concept and its manifestation. We met a lady who had been an aurovillian for 6 years now, and she rarely leaves by the sounds of it. 'It has everything here, schools, shops, community gardens as well as a profound peace and balance I can't find outside of this place.’
The town spirals out like the Milky Way, centered around a large golden sphere and an ancient Banyan tree. It's known as the Matrimandir and its pretty spectacular. You have to reserve tickets to enter the dome a day in advance and in person, so we did this before heading back into town to escape the heat for a little while.
In the late afternoon we rode to Paradise Beach, a long stretch of sand dotted with palm huts and squealing school girls - I still can't believe that you have to pay 200 rupees just to be on the beach - but it was really beautiful. We sat in a hut and didn't do much at all for a few hours. It always feels good to be back beside the sea. The ride home was quite eventful. An extravagant funeral procession burst through the main road, flowers colouring the streets, and crackers exploding in the sky. The congestion it caused on the roads meant we got a good look at the man whose life was being celebrated, he looked comfy and content.
We awoke the next morning nice and early, grabbing a bite to eat from famed Auroville bakery before heading back to the Matrimandir to enter the sacred dome. We sadly had to submit all cameras and phones before we could get within 50 meters of the entrance. The interior design of the dome was delivered to the mother by a dream, and what a dream it must have been! It reminded me of a 70s style spaceship. Super sleek white marble surfaces and plush white carpet, a soft gradient walking platform winding upward towards the central room and dull pink neon lights arranged in a honeycomb pattern covering the walls. And most interestingly of all, a single beam of light, which cuts through the centre of the sphere and 2 immaculate crystals on its journey to the buildings base. It's an architectural beauty and one I am so glad we got to experience. The central room is Matrimandir's shiny white heart and a space which enables you to achieve enlightenment, a space essential to all humankind, according to the mother. Inside, you're not allowed to make noise of any kind - coughing and sneezing are all prohibited. We sat on white cushions and stared at the magnificent clear crystal which takes pride of place. Each meditation session lasts 20min, after which, both Daniel and I admitted to experiencing some kind of clarity.
It feels really right to have ended our time in this country in such a spiritual way. With farewell flowers and bindi, we waved farewell to our Pondi family and boarded the bus back to Chennai for our 11am flight the next morning. India is a place whose customs, people and traditions have challenged and inspired us. 3 months in India has perhaps never been so accurately captured as with the words of Mark Twain, so I think I will let him sign off...
‘This is indeed India; the land of dreams and romance, of fabulous wealth and poverty, of splendour and rags, of palaces and hovels, of famine and pestilence, of genii and Giants and Aladdin lamps, of tigers and elephants, the cobra and the jungle, the country of a thousand nations and a hundred tongues, of a thousand religions and two million gods, cradle of the human race, birthplace of human speech, mother of history, grandmother of legend, great grandmother of tradition, whose yesteryears bear date with the moldering antiquities of the rest of the nations - the one sole country under the sun that is endowed with an imperishable interest for lettered and ignorant, wise and fool, rich and poor, bond and free, the one land that all men desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse for the shows of all the rest of the globe combines.’
Mark Twain, Following the Equator 1897