Eternity

There are people, among them Alain Danielou and Ganesh Baba, who believe that Indian thought underlies most of what we call civilization in the world. It forms the esoteric core, handed down orally, around which exoteric religions and thought systems are built. Whether or not this is true, there is something about India that touched my soul in the way that great literature or art touches it, something eternal.

Sitting on the sunny balcony of the Sahi River View Guest House having breakfast one morning,



I met a fellow guest, a student of historical architecture. At the time I was reading Rana Singh's book, Towards the Pilgrimage Archetype (which I had just discovered downstairs at Indica Books without having any idea that Professor Singh was a close friend of Roxanne's and that we would be visiting him a couple days later).



I loved the idea that in Benares (aka Kashi) there is a great mandala of three concentric circles of 12 shrines forming pilgrimage routes in and around it. I felt I was seeing through the conspicuous decay to an ancient and glorious past. After all, Benares is often called the oldest city in the world.

Imagine my surprise when the architect told me that most of the older buildings in Benares date back only to the mid-18th century. It isn't the buildings themselves that are so old; it's the tradition. It isn't material surroundings that carry the stamp of eternity in India, though I saw very ancient temples in Bhubaneshwar, it's actions, like pilgrimage, and ideas.

And inaction. Compared to the west, India moves and changes very slowly. It is more receptive than active, more yin than yang. During a conversation about the current invasion of American culture in India, I heard someone comment, "India survived the Mogul invasion and adopted the best of Islamic culture, we survived the British Raj and adopted the the best of British culture. We will survive this invasion too, and take the best from it."

No wonder it feels eternal.