Sunday, September 9, 2007

Extra Credit DB: Krishn Janmashtmi


The first thing you should expect to see when walking into a Hindu temple: electric, flashing palm trees. But don’t worry, they’re only one garish detail the temple’s publicists have decided to adopt. If the space no longer feels sanctified, let your eyes move on. Once you’ve accepted the psychedelic coconut palms, you’ll notice their serene backdrop: an absolutely stunning, handcrafted, eight-foot video projection screen. In truth, it reads just like stained glass, only with more channels. “No Show” flashes in the corner of the screen. That must have been how Krishn devotees felt prior to the presence of multimedia in the ashram. “No Show. No Show.” Well, now there’s no reason to look for a show anywhere else.


“Oh, but my eyes. They were not meant to see this within these majestic walls!” Just close them. It’ll be OK. Your senses will soon become calm again. Drop your eyelids, unclench your hands, and let the soothing tones of the loudspeaker drip into your ears. “Excellent news,” says a voice much larger than the woman from which it comes. “Dish network is now broadcasting your daily prayer not only in the morning, but in the evening too. TV-Asia now delivers a double dose of the daily devotion your life so sorely needs.” Enlightenment speeding across the airwaves faster than I can think, and it’s only $39.95 a month. Sign me up!


Time sure does change things. I still hold on to the image of a “religious” temple devoted to austerity in utility and atmosphere. And I’m sure there are still ashrams that are little different from what they would have been two thousand years ago. One near Houston is prided for its traditional mode of craftsmanship and classical appearance. Indeed, it’s stunning. But even there the columns are lined with fiber-optic cables for recording special events. It’s living in the twenty-first century.


It is really healthy for me to see these seemingly antithetical ideals integrated. It warms me to the developing world. After all, what makes a slab of granite more holy than a silicon chip? Why is parchment consecrated and a palm pilot denigrated? Well I know, in general, there is reason for this. All things are equally divine in an absolute sense; all things radiate from the divine ground. But all of this radiated divinity manifests into a relative plain. We imbue the objects around us, and the feelings and thoughts flowing through us, with intentions. A stone slab chiseled with spiritual metaphors carries intentions other than those possessed by a sterile computer part to be sold to a multinational software conglomerate. The process of creation crafts an energy that lingers in the product. But I am always amazed when a sterile computer part is incorporated into a totally human (beyond human?) service of worship. The twenty-first century has altered all that it embraces. It is only practical, yet in many ways necessary, that Hindu ceremony accommodates and grows with these changes.


I missed dinner, but I did wander the grounds and see the Indian architecture. A lotus-shaped, aqua pool lies at the foot of the main phallus-like temple. There are light blue columns that remind me of the Parthenon. Many of the brightly painted surfaces look plastic, like a diorama in the corner of the “India Wing” of a museum. The food was what I imagine to be traditional fare, served on traditional Styrofoam trays. (I stuck to my Styrofoam cup of water poured from a large Igloo thermos. The people and the dress are beautiful. The greens and yellows of their fabrics are as rich and complex as the odors of the food. I cannot even picture a Christian congregation in its most joyous celebration with such variety and color. 


After the Janmashtmi celebration, I walk outside, stepping between the many shoes of many sizes that the devotees have left near the entrance. I find my own sandals in the bottom cubby of the shoe rack. Watching the dancers inside, the thing that stood out to me the most was the controlled elegance of their hands and feet. I try to slither my hands as they did. I think it’ll take some practice. But what a beautiful night. The stars are out and it is dark. And in my head I hear the ringing of a loudspeaker: “Don’t forget to tune to TV-Asia so that you may have a moment of peace before the long drive to work in a Western world of the twenty-first century.”