Prana Danam part 4

The end of the program nears, only 3 days to go. I notice enthusiasm is waning – all the serious and dedicated annas and akkas have started to show up late to shifts, forget to badge-in, or even flunk work halfway through shifts to chill or run errands. Even people from Sadhanapada – now allegedly trained to endure hard working patterns – have started to show signs of faltering. Even Guillaume, normally so diligent, is regularly disappearing mid-session to go video call his wife and baby.

Prana danam is tough, not just for me but for all of us – good Annas and Akkas from Sadhanapada can endure grueling working hours but aren’t used to physical labour. After a a few weeks with no rest day, fatigue is kicking in. In the midst of that general discouragement, I let my standards slide – I take a step back in all the roles I’m assigned to, take extra long to complete every step, and let others pick up the pieces of my increasingly crappy work. Especially after our sub-groups were re-assigned to new areas in Biksha: my group had now been shifted to sweeping and mopping the dining area. A long and tedious process, which normally is carried out swiftly with a wash & polish machine. But now it had to be done manually – the fancy cleaning machine stopped working, with no fix for the foreseeable future. So, our shift managers assign two teams’ worth of people to the task – a logical decision in principle. Except there isn’t enough equipment to get the work done, with only 1 mop for every 3 persons and 2 sweepers to share amongst our 12 selves. Many of us end up doing nothing and just stand there. I can tolerate boring, tedious work, but not doing nothing while watching others work. My motivation, by then already fragile, took a further hit.

But now is not the time to quit, or to act out and demand resolutions. Just like every resource at the ashram, cleaning resources are sparse and stretched out to their absolute maximum. The best course of action is for me to sit back and let it be - This reality is completely unavoidable, in a very literal sense.

Accepting and embracing this reality leads instead to increased socialising with my program mates – which we aren’t encouraged to do, but do anyways. We are together facing the same fatigue, inefficiencies of the system, and the same boredom that it inevitably produces. We are in this together. Increasingly every day, we end our shifts a little earlier, and sit on the stairs leading to the non-spicy section of Biksha hall. We chat, we make jokes, we share and watch dumb internet content. Contact details are exchanged. We bounce away and walk together to various other parts of the ashram, we get to know each other better. Particularly one of them – a sadhanapada alumnus and long time volunteer in Isha, hoping to get paid full-time employment in the ashram soon: Quentin

My new friend Quentin is not like other guys - he is a man of faith. At 27 years old, he had already been through a few cycles of depression and fuck-uped-ery in well paid but horrible jobs. During the height of the COVID crisis he stumbled upon Sadhguru’s youtube wisdom and decided to pursue yoga as his calling in life. He joined Isha ashram 3 years prior, successfully completed sadhanapada, but decided against returning to “the real world”. Instead, he stayed on as a long-term volunteer, living full-time in the male dormitory.

-“What are you waiting for?” I tease him, semi-jokingly “- why don’t you move on to the next step, Poonanga or Bhamacharya (very long term celibate monastic programs in the ashram) ?”

Yes, Isha is not just a yoga ashram, it’s an entire system, an academic-like institution with grades and levels . The sort of establishment where one can comfortably nestle their entire lives, if they make the cut at every stage – which essentially requires Stakhanovite level of dedication to Isha and Sadhguru, for a sustained long time. Much like some of my old friends back at university – those oh-so prestigious academic faculties – it’s easy to see your whole life swallowed up, institutionalised. All it takes is serious studiousness, an unwavering faith in the system, and some luck. Yes, luck and a good sense of flair for mooching are essential for success in worlds that pretend to be meritocratic, but fundamentally aren’t. After many years of hard work, dedication and infiltration into the hierarchical ranks, you may get a long term or a permanent role of some sort – sorted for life. Not a substantial pay by any means, or the chance to do something big and meaningful, but at least you won’t have to ask yourself hard questions about the future. Stay put and you’ll never have to make the decision to risk it all for glory, success or posterity.

-“yes I want to of course, but my parents are opposed to it. I need to gain their approval before going into these next steps.”

Like many people in India, Quentin must refer to his parents authority for everything, including his own life choices. Now in his late 20’s, Quentin is an adult by most objective standards: he’s graduated from university, has worked as a business professional for several years, moved out of his familial hacienda many years ago, while supporting himself independently and living in another state than his own. But he isn’t married, and isn’t supporting his family back – that, by local standards, gives his parents the right to keep a tight hold onto him. Even if and when he reaches these milestones, his parents will always have a say in what he can and should do. In spite of that, Quentin doesn’t resent his parents, and they call everyday. The 1,660 kms separating them for the last 6 years cannot tarnish the strength of their bond – a connection held in highest esteem by Indian society. Except in extremely abusive circumstances – and even then – for people here it comes before and above everything else, even when parental demands go against the best interests of those involved.

-“Anna, just disobey and follow your heart. Your parents will be mad and upset, for sure, but they’ll get over it quicker than you think”, I said in response. It’s a very westernised perspective, I realise that even as I say it, but I hold onto that view with deep conviction.

-“Don’t worry Akka I’m working on it, slowly but surely I will sway their minds and I’ll have my way, I just have to be gentle and patient with them. In time they’ll come around to the idea of me choosing a spiritual life” – have his way but more importantly his parents’ full approval; that part he left unsaid.