Classes, Schedule, and People

I am told that when classes go slowly initially, the student is not intimidated; after a solid start, even if the teacher picks up the speed tenfold, it doesn’t matter. The student learns faster and is more comfortable in the class. This is the way classes were always taught in the Gurukulam system of India, and it is therefore no wonder the students were able to learn so much in such a short amount of time. When things changed eventually, due to imperial influences, school became a chore because even when the student did not understand the basics the teacher kept chugging on. Without a solid start, it becomes impossible for a student to fully grasp the material of a subject if the class moves too fast. Yet this is the method of teaching that the entire world has adopted based on the influence of the British style of education during the time of their global empire. Luckily, that influence has not reached the remote corners of India where the ancient method of teaching still survives. This is the way I am being taught here, and I could not be happier with the system. I have never been so comfortable learning new material before; I feel like I have a grasp of whatever I am currently being taught before the next topic arrives.

 

Now, my classes are in full swing. We started off slowly, I became comfortable with my subjects, and then we took off! Rarely am I seen not immersed in a book or not studying something (I have honestly never wanted to study this much before – except for maybe last time I came to India). This is the purpose for which I came, and I’m in the right place. I have been informed by several independent sources that Sringeri is indeed presently the best location for Sanskrit and Shaastra (which translates to “scripture,” although the word scripture is not quite correct because it gives the Shaastras a religious overtone which is totally not true, but let’s say “ancient science” for now) studies at the university and graduate level [officially; I’m sure unofficial studies at this level and with this method take place in several other locations, but doing work within established institutions has its benefits in the long run].

 

My classes are as follows, and though I don’t have a thoroughly defined schedule as yet, I will try to put them into a comprehensible frame for reference. I do not have the same schedule every day – this may seem like an obvious statement, but it’s worth noting because my schedule literally changes every day. So the classes are: 1) Vyaakarana Shastra, which is the science of Sanskrit grammar; 2) Nyaaya Shastra, which is Vedic epistemology (I will explain this one later); 3) Uttararaamacaritam (pronounced UT-tuh-ruh-RAA-muh-chuh-ri-tum, and literally means, “Later, Ram’s Character”), which is a Sanskrit play from the 14^th century by the playwright Bhavabhooti about Ram’s actions and character after defeating the evil king Ravana in Lanka; 4) Raghuvamsham, which is a mahaakaavyam (epic poem) in Sanskrit by Kalidas, one of the greatest Indian poets of all time, about the Raghu Dynasty, the dynasty in which Ram was; and 5) Bhagavad Gita, a 15-minute class where the teacher does a lead-and-follow read-through of one chapter of the Bhagavad Gita, with the purpose of memorization in mind, and with explanation of the meaning of the chapter as a whole – we do one chapter at a time for two weeks, and then we move on to the next chapter, and every two weeks I am supposed to have a new chapter memorized, so after nine months I should know the Bhagavad Gita by heart (there are 18 chapters).

 

As for the schedule of these classes, I generally have Vyaakarana and Uttararaamacaritam daily (when I say daily, I mean every day, including Saturday and Sunday), though the time is not fixed. I have Nyaaya on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. The time is not totally fixed for Nyaaya either, though it could be at 10:00 AM or 4:00 PM. It depends on what time I have fixed with the teacher the previous day. Raghuvamsham is supposed to be on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays at 5:00 PM, but the teacher has been so busy that we have only had three classes so far, and we won’t be having more class until at least the ninth of September because the teacher is leaving in a few days for an exposition of one of the school plays in another city, as he is one of the directors, so he and all the students in the play will be gone until the ninth. My Bhagavad Gita class is supposed to start on the 1^st of September. I am really excited for this class, because I have always wanted to memorize the Gita, and here is my opportunity to do so in class format! I am told that it will happen without any effort on my part, such is the ancient method of memorization. Nervousness. Can I do it? We will see…

 

My daily routine is pretty simple. I wake up at 3:00 AM, perform my daily morning rituals (brush teeth, heat up and drink about a liter of water, go to the bathroom, shower) and by the time they are over it is usually around 4:15 or so. At 4:30 I go to do Yoga in the main school building, where the Yoga teacher (who is one of my friends, and I will write about him later) holds a daily Yoga class in one of the conference halls. The Yoga sessions include a physical work out, breathing exercises, postures, and meditation. Yoga ends at around 6. I use the next two hours to study or read, then at 8:00 two of my friends come to my room (one of them is the Yoga teacher) to make breakfast with me. We make breakfast and eat it by about 9:30 or so, followed by clean-up, then the school day begins at 10:00. At 1:00 PM I go to eat lunch at a home nearby, where a lady hosts a few students for meals daily. The students eat there in the form of paying guests, and it works out nicely. At around 6:30 or 7:00 PM my two meal buddies come over again to make dinner with me, we make dinner, eat it, and clean up by around 8:45 or 9:00. For the next hour or so I do my own work and then sleep. Usually I am completely exhausted by 10:00 PM, and since I have to start again at 3:00 AM, I try to make it a point to sleep by or before 10:00.

 

I have met some amazing people so far. This includes the headmaster, teachers, and fellow students of the Vidyapeeth, the Shankaracharya of Sringeri, and many random people. I will only write in detail about a few of them in this blog, but it can be safely understood that everyone I have met is absolutely amazing. Everyone here knows more than me about almost everything (except for English and computers, I suppose). I am not exaggerating. And I am not just talking about academics: I am talking about life. Most people here sing exceptionally well, so I have been picking up tips here and there from everyone, and I have noticed that my singing has improved since I came, more towards the Indian classical side (finally). Everyone I interact with knows more Sanskrit than me, so I feel like I am constantly in class. They are always teaching me new things, and since I am eager to learn, I find teachers everywhere. I am picking up bits of Kannada here and there too, since there are people in Menase who know no language other than Kannada. I am forced to learn some, and hopefully this will turn into a working knowledge of the language during the time I am here. My friends teach me life lessons just by their actions, but they are sure to teach me in words too if the situation ever arises. I never thought I would be doing Yoga but here I do Yoga daily at 4:30 AM. In general I feel like I have placed myself into an environment where everyone has different qualities that I would like to inculcate, and therefore it is my job while I’m here to pull myself up to their level. They are selflessly providing a helping hand as well, and I feel honored to be in the constant presence of such amazing individuals.

Menase and the Monsoon

Having been in Sringeri for about two weeks now, I have realized a few things. First of all, I’m not actually in Sringeri. Sringeri is the town nearby, about two or three kilometers from where I’m staying: in the guesthouse of the Rajiv Gandhi Campus of Rashtriya Sanskrit Sansthan (a.k.a. National Sanskrit University) in a village called Menase (pronounced MAY-na-say) just outside the town of Sringeri, in Karnataka, India. It’s like living in “Chicago” – we say that we live in Chicago, even though we’re from the suburbs. Although in my particular situation, I would say the distance is more like that from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade – I’m in a remote location, surrounded by fields, on a college campus, outside of a town that is accessible by foot where everyone goes once in a while to hang out. (As an aside, this place is EXACTLY like Hogwarts... I will write about that later.) It’s still far enough where one must make a special effort to go there though, even though it’s possible to go every day (there are people who live in the city itself and come to college every day from there – by foot, of course).

 

Menase is beautiful. I will be guilty of mentioning this several times, forgive me in advance. It is located in a valley (although not completely at the bottom, it’s sort of in mid-hill), therefore surrounded on all sides by hills, which make for excellent scenery as the backdrop for my studies (which have started, and which I will write about later).

 

It is presently the monsoon season, and in Sringeri this means a lot. My actual trip to Sringeri was delayed because of the rains in the first place, owing to the fact that there was nonstop rain for four or five days just before I was supposed to come (on the 15^th of July). I was unclear on what that meant, however, before I actually came here. I realized that just saying “rain” does not quite capture the essence of the monsoon. It is being unable to see because of how thick the sheets of rain are, being unable to walk because you cannot see the ground due to the depth of the water, it is the uselessness of an umbrella in the face of the power of the God of the Hydrosphere. It is the swelling of the river Tunga to the point where the water level is higher than the bridge that crosses it. My umbrella is already broken; I guess American umbrellas are not made for this kind of rain. I should be (have to be) getting a new one shortly, or I will be permanently soaked!

 

One cannot leave one’s residence without an umbrella, even if it’s not presently raining, because one second it could be sunny and nice out, and the next it could be pouring. Sometimes, it is sunny and rainy at the same time – this confuses me but also makes me very happy. The sun and rain work together in brilliant ways, especially when everything around you is green. It makes the greens greener, and there are so many shades of green that one cannot know the beauty of this sight until one has seen it for oneself. And every shade becomes more accented with the rain.

 

One thing about Sringeri is quite fascinating. Despite the constant downpour, work goes on. People put on a hood-like thing; it is like draping a sweatshirt behind you, wearing only the hood. This particular accessory is made of plastic or some woven material, and covers the head, shoulders, back, and waist. It resembles a [huge] plastic grocery bag, cut in half vertically, turned upside down, and draped over the body. People can be seen wearing these things and doing their work, which could be anything – fieldwork (sowing seeds or planting crops), electric work, construction, automotive, transportation, even just random walking. They are so used to the rain that it doesn’t affect them at all! This intrigues me. For the most part, when it is raining, people are more hesitant to step outside, more reluctant to do their work. I can attest to this; although I like playing in the rain, my mind does not stay focused on my work when it is raining (it is a totally different story in Sringeri, the rain makes me extra focused). Over here, rain or no rain, people are constantly doing what they need to do.

 

My classes are moving slowly so far, so I will write more about those as they pick up.