First day at the Farm

I shared the ridein the minibus in the company of a lovely family who were also heading to the farm.

The journey took the usual one and a half hours along toll roads surrounded by jungle and hills. I watched the greenery fly by inter-spaced from time to time by small towns or toll gates that demanded money or a card to swipe.

Eventually we all arrived at the bungalow I remembered so well and grabbing our bags, settled into the various rooms.

Bearing in mind that this is a working farm and the people who live and work here have a lot more things to do and worry about apart from the guest bungalow, my first job as ever was to scrub down the bathroom walls and floor removing the orange brown colouration the water leaves behind. 

All water comes from the reservoir on top of the hill that receives its water via a pump from the lake at the bottom of the hill!

Drinking water goes through a purifying filter but water through a tap after a bout of heavy rain is a muddy brown colour and it is this that builds up on the surfaces of the bathrooms and anywhere else water is found.

Once scrubbed, I unpacked my belongings, took a shower and changed into my usual farm clothing to go for a walk.

The sky was clear and blue, a sharp cry from the rains that had arrived at the same time as myself the year before.

The ground then had turned to thick clawing mud that stuck to shoes layer upon layer until each shoe weighed at least two Kg!

Without the rain the sun parched ground consisted of orange dust that blew around the ankles as you walked.

I walked over to the Chip factory where Alex and I had begun our Farm experience in 2014 but the tapioca fields now had corn in them and I wondered what had happened to all the chip making.

As I opened the door I found the place abandoned. 

All the machinery was stacked to one side. 

Chip making had definitely stopped.

Wondering what I would do for work during my stay and wandered back to the bungalow.

The family I had travelled with had rested during the heat of the day but were up by the time I got back. 

They invited me to join them for the evening program in the nearby temple and, after another quick shower, we all got back into the mini bus and headed out of the farm.

As we drove I asked what it was we were going to celebrate. Ekadashi I was told but no more.

Ekadashi I knew meant fasting from grains for the day, what I didn't know was that certain Ekadashi's were celebrated with fire sacrifices and Deity bathing!

We arrived at the hall and were directed upstairs to where the festivities were to take place.

A fire sacrifice was being held on the balcony with various items like bananas, rice and ghee being added to the fire as specific verses from the Vedas were recited.

Inside the main room a large table had been set up with jugs and containers of various sizes.

I paid my obediences and discreetly found myself a place to sit as the place began to fill with people.

Class was luckily given in English and translated into Tamil for the rest of the congregation by one of the devotees followed by a loud kirtan of the Hare Krsna Mantra, no need for translation here as the mantra is universal. 

As the kirtan drew to a close Lord Chaitanya and Nityananda were removed from the alter and behind a screen were dressed in bathing clothes.

Once the screen was removed they were bathed copiously in milk, honey, yoghurt as well as other liquids as the kirtan began again. 

For over an hour the Deties were bathed while we sang. 

At one point each person in the congregation was invited to personally help with the bathing by pour milk from designated containers over the Deities.

I joined the dozens and dozens of people filing down the stairs to collect the sacred milk before returning to join the queque waiting to pour the milk over the statues. By the time we had all finished, over an hour had passed as by now the hall was filled to over flowing.

As the bathing drew to an end, so did the kirtan and it was announced that prasadam was served down stairs. 

At every gathering of devotees, no matter how few or how many, food that has been offered to God is served. 

Feasts are something devotees are exceptionally good at and this event was no different. 

Rice, pakoras, khitchri, dals and more was piled upon my plate as I worked my way along the line of eager to serve devotees.

After the food the drama's began and the recitals. It was auspicious to maintain the celebrations until 5am and everyone who was planning on staying al night had prepared something to entertain the Deities and congregation.

I however was not staying and as midnight approached the Mataji who lives in the upper bungalow at the farm invited me to return to the farm with her and her husband. I happily accepted as to fall asleep in the temple room was not auspicious and I knew I would not be able to stay awake all night.

The next morning all the doors within the bungalow remained closed. 

I had heard people arrive at 6am so leaving everyone to sleep I walked the roads that run around the farm in a huge grid and caught up with all the happenings since my last visit.

Tree planting was still the main enterprise on the farm with jack fruit trees making nearly enough money to support the farm and its workers.

Once the new trees had reached maturity in two years, the farm would start to make a profit and provide more food to the temples in the area.

In the mean time areas of land had been rented out to interested parties who supported the Hare Krsna ideology. 

The Mataji who had brought me home the night before, along with her husband and two youngest boys had arrived at the farm just as I was leaving in 2015.

Both boys were trained in aeronautics, delivering planes and parts all over the world yet hating their high profile jobs. Given the chance to change career directions they had jumped at the oppertunity and now worked beside their parents, growing, picking, packing and delivering fresh vegetables to the nearby shops and markets.

I finished my rounds and returned to the bungalow wondering what work I could do to help out at the farm. 

Gopish had been rather vague when I had asked him the day before.

“Our Farm is your Farm Mataji. You do what ever you wish to do.”

I looked at the garden around the bungalow, the grass had been cut but not clearer.

Today's work, I decided would be to clear the garden and with that I set off to look for a rake!