Amma loves Mambo

So a couple of days ago my uncle ori told me that if your karma is right then you will get to meet the hugging mother, but if your karma is not so ready then you will not meet her. It was a not so subtle way of peer pressuring me into staying in gokarna with the rest of the family and then making the journey to Karwar to meet the female guru Amma, or the hugging mother, or as I have dubber her "mama amma." I can't deny a rhyme.

I had planned on taking the backwater trip to mama amma's ashram in kerala to meet her, but my uncle ori also informed me that she was almost always on "hug tours" and that this might be my only chance to meet her. (He's quite a good salesmen, dod sheli).

So, we took the boat ride to the bus to karwar. i tried to ignore the child that kept coughing on me, in what is inevitably an overcrowded bus ride with not enough stops. I made many efforts to think of a more loving response than my instinct which was to smack her..."she's sick, she's suffering more than I am right now..." and other such excuses to not get frustrated with her acts of spreading germs...I figured I better get my karma in line if I were to meet the mother that and maybe its not so good to let my fear of germs lead to violence...

We checked into what I thought was the nicest hotel I've stayed in yet, with a tv and tile floors (tile really goes along way when you've had dirt floors for weeks). And then at about 4pm we walked over to the football stadium to get a good number in the hugging line. The ceremony wasn't supposed to begin till about 9pm, but apparently 4pm was a late arrival. There were about 10,000 indians already there and eventhough we were allowed to cut most of the lines (a form of racism I'm not so okay with) we still had a ridiculously high number. These events are known to go through the night, starting at 10pm, mama amma will hug for over 14 hours straight, without food, water, bathroom breaks. She gets no time to stretch her hugging arms or arise from her decidedely cramped huiggin posture. And although I think that is amazing I did not want to join her for fourteen hours of waiting for a hug.

Luckily, I am white. and therefore along with all of the other perks that I may find in my country, I was privileged to change my ridiculously high number for a ridiculously small number and again cut all the crowds of indians that had been waiting for over ten hours.

The men were seperated from the women and so Dana and I were sitting alone among all the white clad ashram devotees. They were a remarkebly international crowd full of folks that I would never expect to fins living in an ashram in india. There were defiently some that I would look at and say, "yes, yes you belong in an ashram." but there were others where I had to pause and ask myself, "is that my accountant??" or " I think thats the women who did my hair in san francisco." They were all very kind and lovely people, and they answered my many questions to the best of their abiulities.

Apparently, for those who don;t know. The ashram in kerala is more like an "ash-colony" with over 2,500 people living there full time. They call Amma, "the mother" and believe that she is a physical manifestation of love. That when she sings she sings love and when she hugs you may experience love. Amma has published many books and cds teaching her philosophy of love, that of course were for sale along with hats that said "amma in karwar." merchadise merchandise merchandise.

Dana and I got bored and so we went to talk to heaps of indian girls and ask them about school and clothing and what they thought of amma and they invited us to come to the temple to pray with them which we did. We rand bells and they painted our faces with tikkas (the red dots) and the silver streaks to open our minds. And then it was showtime.

The people from the ashram alternated between shoving me up the line and wiping my face off with napkins (apparently you cant be greasy when in the presence of love). There was definetly an energy to the whole thing, but I dont know if it would've been any different from the energy of having zero agency of yourself or direction, a little bit like a stampede...quickly quickly, they asked me what language I spoke, I said english, not that it mattered because it wasnt like I was allowed to take counsel with the guru, instead they shoved me into her armpit as she whispered "am,amamamamamamamamamamamamamama" into my ear, and then poof like that I was gone, shoved and pulled and pushed to the side where I was told that mama amma has invited me to sit on stage with her to meditate. I agreed and in a daze I sat down on stage. I felt honored till I realized that it again had nothing to do with my karma, but rather my skin color, because everyone else on stage was also white... so I left. who knew love came in the form of a racist armpit! not I, said the girl with a new red dot on her forehead, not I.

I believe in don quijote. I believe in life as a story that we tell ourselves, and the importance of such cultural mytholgies as the hugging mother. I believe that it is a lovely story to devote yourself and your life to what you believe is enlightenment and the physical manifestation of love. Do I believe that I am now enlightened because I got shoved into some ladies armpit?? hmmmm...you tell me.