The morning ritual 

The first thing to do every morning was a bath in the holy Ganga River. For several reasons kind of a tricky thing to do. First of all by morning I mean nighttime. It had to be done between 4 am and 4.30 am. Especially for me, it‘s already a challenge to get up that early. Besides it‘s still dark at that time. I knew getting some discipline would do me good in the long run. Still, getting up hours before sunrise was not quite a comforting idea I had to get used to. Furthermore without a light it‘s near to impossible to survive the steep decline down to the river. I exaggerate of course. But when I was a complete rookie I tried to make my way down to the river without success also due to the fact that I didn’t even take my mobile phone with me to shed a little light since I had sworn to myself not to use any electronic device for the next three months.

On my first attempt to reach the river in the mentioned time frame I almost fell down the slippery slope down the mound. So in the pitch dark I had to admit defeat, instead of feeling the magic freshness after a full-body bath in a river I went back to my room rather annoyed and quickly washed my face with some tap water. I already heard the horn being blown that indicated the start of the so called ‚Chandan‘ ceremony. Michelle pointed out how crucial it was to follow the schedule without exception, to be on time and to dress appropriately. That meant that a traditional indian kilt or ‚Lungi‘ as they called it had to be worn. I didn‘t want to disappoint. Still already on the first morning I was late, barely holding the piece of cloth around my waist since I hardly knew how to wear a Lungi and when I arrived at the temple for my first Chandan ceremony an indian guy whispered harshly: 

„Come quick, you‘re late!“ 

I wanted to do everything right. I kept on telling myself: „You have got to surrender“. I was already inside the temple when the indian guy noticed that I was still wearing my shoes and pointed at them in sheer horror. I felt even more stressed than before. 

I heard a voice inside my head: „You idiot! You already fucked it up!“.   

I ran outside to drop my shoes and came back as fast as possible without running. Man Singh, the responsible man for the ceremony was already standing there and was gesticulating impatiently. Nobody had instructed me what to do exactly. He pointed to the floor, I dropped down on my knees. He pushed me further down while he mumbled angrily. He then aggressively pushed my head to the side, I heard my neck crack, held my head with one hand and applied the yellow sandalwood on my forehead and the red dot between my eyes with other hand. Not kidding, I felt violated, treated worse than an animal. Another effective method if you want to lose your ego, at least that‘s what I figured in retrospect.
 

Babaji‘s prince of darkness 

Man Singh was quite a character. You would never see him even getting close to a smile. He displayed the complete opposite of the Ashram‘s principles ‘Truth, Simplicity and Love’. When you were lucky you would experience him in a grumpy mood. Worst case you‘d be yelled at and physically abused. I am not exaggerating. An austrian guest who had been coming to Haidakhan for years told me that he once got into a fist fight with the old man because he wouldn‘t take the physical abuse.    

Man Singh also took certain things very, very seriously. I remember how one time I woke up and I saw him in front of my bed yelling at me in Hindi because I hadn‘t locked my door. The other day he started yelling randomly at people until his anger trip escalated in him breaking a trash can just because one of the doors wasn‘t locked as it was supposed to be.   

This charming old man, I assume looking at his very wrinkly face he must be at least 80 years of age, had one task the entire day which was the Chandan ceremony before dawn. He then usually spent the rest of the day sitting on the stairs, smoking cigarettes. He didn‘t even communicate with the people of the Ashram, he would just sit and look around angrily. It almost goes without saying that he didn‘t speak a single word of English. I guess even if he did, he wouldn‘t engage in a conversation in any other language but Hindi.   
 

Enough is enough 

I always try to see the best in any person, but I had never met anyone who gave me such a hard time. I simply couldn‘t find anything good about him. Every morning I tried to figure out how I should tilt my head and on which position exactly I had to go down on my knees to make him react the least obnoxious way possible. By time I got used to his occasional abuse, I really saw it as a challenge. If I wanted to be an ambassador of love I should be able to even love the ones who seemingly deserved love the least. And this is what I practiced every morning. It was fine by me. All of the events that happened in Haidakhan I considered challenges to gain a personal growth from. But then one morning I witnessed how he pushed, punched and screamed at an asian woman during the morning ceremony. 

I couldn‘t take it anymore. 

She was such a lovely, warm and humble woman. I doubt she even had it in her to harm any living soul. Seeing her being treated in such an inhumane way was the last straw for me. I thought of punching him in the face right away, but then again, what good would it do? I would only get infected by his destructive vibrations. 

I decided however not to join the morning ceremony anymore unless someone else could perform it. Besides I told the manager about how disgusted I was by his behaviour. Of course the people in charge were well informed. Years before the manager already tried to fire him, but the board was against it since Man Singh had been a faithful follower of Babaji for decades already. Well, too bad for them really. Nevertheless I took the conscious decision not to let my life be poisoned by such terrible people like Man Singh and never went to the ceremony again. 

His behaviour made me think a lot though. It took me some time and some talks to wrap my head around his situation. How sad to spend every moment of every day frowning, basically just waiting for your death. If your existence is such a pain and if what you do is nothing but inflicting pain, well, then I wish you to be salvaged from it. 

I couldn‘t help but wishing him death. It would be the best thing to happen for all of the people involved.
 

A broken-hearted man 

Man Singh never had a family of his own. In India it’s a very uncommon thing not have your own children. The very few who choose not to have wife and kids usually dedicate their life to the spiritual path. 

He was a devotee of Babaji who seemed to be extraordinarily attached to his Guru. I heard a story about him when he was in his younger days and Babaji was also still around (I mean in his physical form ;) ). It must have been the early 70ies. At a certain point Man Singh got so frustrated that he stripped down naked in front of the Ashram‘s gate screaming: „Tell me what to do to deserve your love! I‘ll do it!“. 

I finally realized what went on. He was nothing but a poor, broken-hearted man. He could never forgive Babaji for abandoning him. He was hurt and he could never overcome this deeply rooted pain. 

Suddenly I felt sympathy for him. Of course it didn‘t mean I wanted us to become best pals. As one can guess by now he‘s not quite all about the fun. But I started to understand which is the least one can do. If only more people showed empathy and tried to understand others, if only more people would make the effort of trying to perceive things in a way that others do there would be a lot less suffering, maybe even no more suffering on our lovely blue planet. Or am I still too much of a romantic? 

Mandy, a truly unique woman from New Zealand that I met in India and that will be written about in future chapters, a great inspiration not just in Haidakhan but also on my further travel, taught me to send a blessing out to any soul you spoke ill of. For their sake and your own‘s sake. So by saying ‚Om Namah Shivaya‘ I wish Man Singh nothing but the best, I hope he‘ll find peace whatever he might be doing, wherever he might be.

To the previous chapters:

Chapter 4: https://steemit.com/travel/@meister/meister-s-journey-chapter-4-i-bow-to-thee-babaji

Chapter 3: https://steemit.com/travel/@meister/meister-s-journey-chapter-3-karma-yoga-and-the-scorpion-incident

Chapter 2: https://steemit.com/travel/@meister/meister-s-journey-chapter-2-meet-the-new-me-swami-sri-rama-bhutesha-premananda

Chapter 1: https://steemit.com/blog/@meister/meister-s-journey-chapter-1