Chapter 8
I sat with David at
dinner. He was the only person there who I even vaguely knew apart from Galina,
and she was pretty much unavailable to either of us. She’d talk for a minute.
She asked the usual questions about how we were getting on, how we were
enjoying ourselves, she’d introduce us to her friends, but after a few minutes
there was always something she needed to do. What she needed to do
fundamentally was follow the rules of the Hare Krishnas. She had to spend her
time meditating, chanting her mantra incessantly and serving the group in any
way she could. Moreover, the group was wary of outsiders and those who didn’t
follow Krishna. It was fine if you were on the way to Krishna. People like us
who it was assumed were interested and potential converts were most welcome.
But people who definitely were not interested, people who believed other things
were at best distractions, at worst harmful. It was for this reason that Galina
had left behind all her old friends in Kaliningrad, it was for this reason, too,
that she had ceased contacting her parents.
Galina was helping Vera
in the kitchens and then came out to serve the food. Whether she really needed
to do this was unclear, but it meant that the benches had all filled up by the
time it was her turn to sit down and eat. David would glance at her and smile,
but the smile he got back was pretty much all he got back.
He had made it clear to
everyone he met that he was only here to see Galina. This simple true statement
had been met with incomprehension by some.
“Who is Galina?” someone had said.
“You may know her better as Garudi,” said David.
“Where have you come from? You’re not Russian. “
“I flew from Scotland. I just study Russian.”
“You speak awfully well. But you’re just friends with
Garudi, aren’t you?”
“I’d say that was her business, wouldn’t you?”
This sort of
conversation went on frequently. He always said “Galina” even to her and only
used her Indian name to avoid confusion. He maintained that he wasn’t here to
learn about Krishna, though, of course, he was interested in new subjects and
experiences. He saw no harm in being an open minded person and was happy to
chat about anything, but that was not why he was here. He had been invited by Galina
and that was why he’d come. Without her he would not have come.
I could not give the
real reason for my coming and it was not plausible that I should be there to
see a former student. So I had to rather maintain the idea that I was there
because I was tempted onto the path to Krishna. This limited what I was able to
say. I mainly sat in silence, which was my usual role, and one in which I was
well practiced. Sometimes it’s much easier being a woman. People accept that
you are shy and meek and quiet. Passivity goes with the role. They don’t know
and don’t expect what is underneath. I have used this fact all my life. It can
be the best form of maskirovka [camouflage] that exists. The trick in any
battle is to get into the rear areas without them even knowing you are there.
After dinner the
conversation started and it looked as if the Hare Krishna top team was ganged
up on David. There were some really friendly, really kind people who I chatted
to over the next few days. They had degrees from some of the better
universities. They often had very good jobs in Moscow. One or two were actually
academics. Outside of this gathering some of them lived undercover. They never
mentioned their occasional few days away being Hare Krishnas. Some even had
families and friends who were completely unaware that they also had Indian
names. Likewise, Galina did not go into her office asking to be called Garudi.
She did not wear her Indian makeup, she did not talk about her beliefs to
anyone there. She was Galina Fedorovna. She looked and sounded like any other Russian.
It wasn’t really possible socially to be anything else in Russia. For an
ordinary Russian to say they were anything other than an ordinary Russian,
would tend to invite incomprehension, ridicule or worse. In that sense all of
us to some extent were undercover. It’s not so very different anywhere else
either. There is a conformity in Scotland also, things that must be said and
things that may not be said, roles that must be played, at least in public, if
not always in private.
I couldn’t help David much
in the discussion that we all had in the next few days. I helped a little with
translation. I told him a word he didn’t know, or helped him find a Russian
word that he had forgotten. But he didn’t need my help much neither with
Russian, nor with philosophy. I was reminded of when I had applied for some
sort of fellowship in my college. I had been presented with some of the best
minds and most senior academics spread round me in a semi-circle. For half an
hour and more they had asked me whatever they pleased about anything they
pleased. The trick, I think, was to answer in a similar fashion. I just said
what I thought was true, without thinking whether it would impress. I just let
my thoughts flow and became unconscious of thinking. Rather like later I would
become unconscious of grammar when I spoke Russian. In this way I could think
freely without inhibition and sometimes come up with an idea that was new. I gave reasons why I thought someone most
eminent had said something incorrect. The fact that my reasons were unthought
out meant that they could be rather hard to counter, for they had an immediacy
and a naivety that can be the best counter to when thoughts have too long gone
through the process of mediation. What else is academia than mediation and recycling
of the same old scholarship? Directness and something a little surprising often
leads to academic bluster. But I remained calm even if someone else became
flustered. David did something similar.
He continually
reiterated that he was not here to learn about the Hare Krishna movement, that
he had his own beliefs, but of course he was willing to discuss with anyone in
a reasonable fashion. He said that his fundamental disagreement was that
Eastern religions like Hare Krishna took the person on the wrong path. They led
to the death of self, indeed, that this was their goal. They viewed the whole
of the ordinary world as appearance while reality was something none of us had
ever seen. This he considered was an essential part of the “everything becomes
one” school philosophy. For ordinary experience suggested the opposite, that
everything in fact was many. His alternative was that the world we see is
perfectly real. That the self we experience in our freedom is real and we are
really free. But by means of this self we can reach the divine through looking
inwardly and by accepting that the divine can only be reached when we accept
that it is beyond reason.
His criticism was much
more subtle than they had expected. He did not attack the stories about Krishna.
He instead pointed out that many stories about Jesus are likewise hard to
understand. We need to go beyond reason to believe miracles. So in the end, it
is a choice. You can pick Krishna if you like. It is equally a choice beyond
reason. But don’t try to come up with proofs. They won’t work in any case.
Someone pointed out
that Jesus and Krishna were the same. He
answered, in that case why not follow Jesus? Moreover, they clearly are not the
same, for the essence of the teaching of Jesus is that our selves, our souls
will be preserved. So, too, is the self preserved in reincarnation, someone
said. Perhaps so, but if I have no recollection of my being a rabbit previously
in what sense is my self preserved? Moreover, that is not the place towards
which it is all tending. The goal is to lose the self in Nirvana, rather like
throwing a cup of milk into the ocean. The goal is to become one rather than to
preserve the individuality of the individual.
I saw how when
necessary, David’s Russian kicked into a higher level than he usually used. It
was like he had a series of gears. He would not always get the grammar right,
but when necessary, he could get the point across very clearly and very
cleverly. Meantime every day as these discussions continued he continued to
attend the services. He sang the songs enthusiastically, he listened patiently
to the guru. He took part in the dance at the end with enthusiasm and then he
put up every evening this extraordinary defence of his own beliefs. I began
wondering what role he was playing. But I also knew that he didn’t need my
help. Far from it, I was very grateful sitting beside him that he was defending
so ably what I believed, too.
Each evening after
these discussions, we would go back for a drink and a debriefing to his room. I
was careful not to give away too much of what my role was. It wasn’t so much a
lack of trust as simply following my usual practice. But as we sat drinking and
smoking cigarettes in his freezing room, I showed that I was sympathetic to the
arguments that he had been making, and pointed out one or two of my own which
might prove useful to him.
We talked about Galina.
She sometimes observed the discussions that continued over a number of days,
but she didn’t take part. Sometimes she would come up to David and act in a
slightly flirtatious, affectionate manner, but she never spent long with him.
It was as if she wasn’t allowed to. I saw her sometimes deep in conversation
with the guru and his wife. Galina’s English was very rudimentary so they
couldn’t talk without a translator. The guru at times looked rather worried. I
wondered if they were worried about David. In the debates no one seemed to be
landing any blows on him. He had successfully circled the wagons. He was here
to see Galina. He was a Catholic. What he believed was not founded on reason.
Therefore, it could not be attacked by reason. He respected what the others
believed, but it was not the direction he wanted to take as it tended towards
loss of self rather than preservation. They charged round like Indians, but
they couldn’t land any blows. Meanwhile, he picked them off one by one.
But David was getting
frustrated. The whole experience was
taking its toll and he was becoming very tired.
“What’s the point,
Effie? I don’t even really talk to her. I just have these endless discussions
about something that isn’t very interesting.”
“I think the time may
be right when you confront her with her lack of attention. After all, she
invited you. You came. She owes you. If it’s a nice day tomorrow, ask her to go
for a walk between the morning and the afternoon sessions.”
“I already asked her, she said she was busy.”
“Tell her that you came
to spend some time with her. If that isn’t going to happen, you might as well
go.”
“You think that will work?”
“I don’t know. But if
she won’t go for a walk with you, you must leave or at least you must make all
the preparations to do so. But I think she will go for a walk with you.”
