Arathi time at Ramakrishna Mutt

A soothing calmness welcomes you as leave behind the traffic, the noise and Vidyarthi Bhavan  and enter the gates of Ramakrishna Mutt. I suggest getting in there at about 6:30 in the evening. After freshening up, you wash your feet and head towards the prayer hall. A congregation of 200-300 is already seated. Considering  that the prayers would be in Bengali, you look around expecting a good number of dark haired, wide-rim glassed and kurtha-pyjama clad Dasguptas, Senguptas,  Chatterjees, Mukherjees, Roys, Sens and Basus in the crowd, but there is not one Bengali babu in sight. You are instead greeted by a potpourri from all over.  

Old timers here, with  a dash of vibhuti on their forehead are engrossed in their well thumbed prayer book, and techies there in jeans are looking up the arathrika on their smart devices. On my left are women:  many have come straight from work, homemakers with their homes out of their minds, grand mothers with their gadgets turned off, great grandmothers in their 9 yards sarees, teenagers  off of Facebook,  and tiny tots sitting handsomely in a meditative poise. Spare a soft whisper guiding the late comer where to sit, there is an overpowering silence all over.

A life size statue of Ramakrishna adorns the altar and sets the tone for serenity that envelops the hall. About 5 minutes before the hour, a line of monks walk in along the central hallway and take their seats in the front where a harmonium and tabla artist await having already tuned in to their customary shruti. 

Arathrika 

At the stroke of seven the lead monk starts the arathi, ringing the bell with one hand  and circling the lamp with another. And at the sharp cue from the harmonium, the  Ramakrishna arathrika -  Khandana Bhava gently begins. The effect is magical: the monks start synchronously in their healing baritones and the  rest of the assembly joins  in perfect harmony. The beautiful Bengali prayer breaks in like the rhythm of a steam engine, slowly coming to life, building momentum, pacing into a crescendo and gradually coming to a stop like the train arriving at its destination.

The hymn was composed and set to tune by Vivekananda as a salutation to his master. Interestingly, nowhere in the prayer Vivekananda takes his master’s name. You could invoke  your own guru and the song would  reverberate the same sentiment. 

Who is my guru?

Raghavendra High School staff (1975)

I wonder whom to revere as "my guru" as my life has not been shaped by any single towering master. After contemplating on the blessings from our family's gurugalu, I turn my thoughts to  my high school teachers.You won't find them on Wikipedia but  they were uncommon people with an extraordinary love for teaching who laid the first building blocks of a solid education. Most of them are dead and sadly no one wrote their eulogies.

Prof D N Buragohain (1985)

I also remember Prof D.N. Buragohain  from IIT Bombay whose teaching was the reason for ISRO to have happened in my life. More particularly for having survived Dr MSS Prabhu  during the technical interview and during my wonderful 6 years of  career. 

Having reached the end of my guru list, I pause for a moment and reflect at my surrounding. I feel overcome at the sea of people immersed in the arathrika with utmost devotion and realize that I do not need any more gurus to be rejoicing in the moment. I hesitate no longer - thinking fondly about Paramesh and Priya-behen for introducing me to the arathrika, I join the singing. I soon find myself resonating with everyone around, none of whom I know. My heart is  filled with immense joy, a joy  sublimer than even the dosa at Vidyrathi. 

(Concluding part of arathrika, recorded live. You need to stop after the song to prevent unrelated audio from playing.)