When the hotel became a hospital

First Published Oct 11, 2011.

When I woke up I was confused –confused as to why the door to the hotel room was open, confused as to why I was so cold, why I could not find my glasses, and confused as to the location of my girl friend Anya. I got out of the bed (strangely shaped, with rails) and thought that I would look around for an extra blanket. I went out the open door trying to orient myself in search of a blanket. I had the spins. The hallway was unusually wide and the floors were surprisingly uncarpeted, industrial, stark and sanitized.

It was a strange and unfamiliar hotel. I did not remember checking in. (Must have been really drunk?) I saw a woman, all dressed in white (hotel housekeeper?) and approached her, asking if I could have another blanket, “I was cold.” Before she could answer I asked her if she knew where my girlfriend Anya was. I told her that I had left her at a local bar and that bar was within walking distance of the hotel. I had gotten pretty drunk and decided to turn in early and walked back to the hotel by myself. We were driving up from SF you know. We had a VW wagon. My head ached. I told her, and joked that the hangover had already begun. I had the spins and could barely walk straight, if at all.

She looked at me cautiously, carefully. Did I know where I was?

Yeah…(why?) at some hotel (in Oregon or California?).  Where is my girlfriend? Is she ok…? I have to find her…Where’s the bar?

“You are in a hospital.” “You had a head injury.” “Come with me…” she says.

No that can’t be…I look around…it does look like a hospital…

She picks up a clipboard from somewhere, yes, your name is Deepak Sarma and you had a rock climbing accident at Smith Rock…

What? My head hurts…I feel the bandages on the back of my head…

She takes me by the elbow and walks me back to my room and gives me another blanket. I go to the bathroom and find my glasses and there is blood on them…maybe she is telling the truth…”the doctor will explain more in the morning…” I reluctantly, anxiously, and skeptically go back to sleep ready to wake up from this nightmare, dream, illusion…

I wake up and look around. I seem to be in a hospital…a male physician comes in…”Hi there Deepak, my name is Dr. …you fell while you were climbing at Smith and had a head injury…you’ve been in the hospital since…

I try standing up but my balance is off, I can barely walk…my head hurts…I lay back on the bed…my head is pounding now and I can feel the dried blood in my ears…I go back to sleep…maybe he is right…maybe there is something wrong…

Prof. Sarma's (aka Durvasa's) paper-writing checklist

Prof. Sarma's (aka Durvasa's) paper-writing checklist

 

1. Did you make an outline of your paper before writing it?

2. Do you have a thesis statement (i.e. an argument)? And a lucid introduction?

3. Does each paragraph deal with a single idea?

4. Do you have a conclusion?

 

5. Are you presenting evidence to back up your claims?

6. Is the evidence from credible sources that have been vetted (i.e. published in university presses or journals that are published in university or other credible presses)?

 

7. Are you quoting when you should be paraphrasing?

8. Are you paraphrasing (and not citing) when you should be quoting?

9. Are you using the word “truly”? (Do not!)

10. Are you using “says” or “talks about” when you mean “states” or “argues”?

11. Are you using “we” instead of the preferable “I”?

12. Do you know the meaning of all the words in your paper?

 

13. Can you eliminate any useless adverbs and adjectives? and make your paper less verbose/ more streamlined?

14. Do you have any superficial or vapid generalizations?

15. Are you using an active, rather than a passive, voice?

 

16. Are your footnote citations complete?

17. Do you have specific page numbers for your citations (and not ranges)?

18. Are you using Ibid when needed?

 

19. Are you using Chicago style? (Not their parenthetical citations option)

20. Do you have a bibliography?

 

21. Can someone not enrolled in the class (or even the University) understand your argument?

22. Have you read your paper aloud to yourself or to an audience?

23. Do you have a proofreader?

 

Goose’s “Indian River” and the Bhagavad Gītā

Goose’s “Indian River” and the Bhagavad Gītā

Deepak Sarma

Professor of Religious Studies

Case Western Reserve University

             “Indian River” is another song in Goose’s rapidly growing repertoire that not only contains a passage from a Hindu text (namely the Bhagavad Gītā), but also sheds light on the journeys taken by guitarist/vocalist Rick Mitarotonda. Like the much loved “Madhuvan,” “Indian River” relates closely to Hindu ideas and to the Hindu god Kṛṣṇa. Knowing a little about the passage from the Gītā cited and the broader theological worldview will hopefully enhance the beauty of an already beautiful song and may shed light on the spiritual worlds of Rick Mitarotonda.

            To this end, gentle readers, I will offer a brief overview of the set and setting of the Bhagavad Gītā. Then I will look at the lyrics of “Indian River” and will offer a bhāṣya (commentary) on a few passages. I will pay special attention, of course, to the selection from the Bhagavad Gītā (the Song of the Lord). If you have already read my piece on “Madhuvan” and learned from the section on the religious context, then you may skip ahead. If you are not already familiar with Hinduism and Hindu theology, then I would urge you to read the next section.

               If my dearest readers’ appreciation of this song and knowledge of Hinduism is enhanced (and, if they learn about themselves in the process), then I will have achieved my goal.

Religious Context

            All the philosophical and religious schools extant in India, other than the Cārvaka (materialist skeptic) and Abrahamic ones, shared a belief in the mechanism of karma, that one’s actions in earlier lives affected both one’s rebirth as well as the events that are to occur in one’s future lives. The entity that was reborn is the ātman (embodied self) whichis born again and again. One accumulates some combination of puṇya (meritorious karma) or pāpa (demeritorious karma), popularly rendered in the “West” as “good” and “bad” karma. The accumulated karma manifests itself until it is depleted or until more is accrued. Karma is thus linked with a belief that one is reborn after one dies and that the type of body that one inhabits (and has inhabited in the past) is indexed to puṇya and pāpa. This cycle of birth and rebirth, in which everyone, each ātman (embodied self), is bound, is called saṃsāra (worldly existence).[i]

Though the schools and traditions of Hinduism differ widely on the origins and precise function of these mechanisms of karma and saṃsāra, they all agree that they exist. They also all share an interest in ending this seemingly endless cycle, and this desire is their raison d’être. The state that sentient beings enter after being liberated is called mokṣaamong the Hindu traditions. In Buddhism, this state is called nirvāṇa. The status and characteristics of mokṣa differ vastly between schools of thought and traditions of Hinduism. Some, but not all, Hindu traditions offer systematic methods by which adherents can break the cycle and attain the desired end. Life as a Hindu means having mokṣa as the telos or endpoint, whether one thinks about it constantly or begins to think about it only when confronting what appears to be one’s inevitable, if only temporary, death.

            Each Hindu believes that it is possible to be liberated from the cycle of birth and rebirth. They differ, though, on the process by which one attains mokṣa and on the experience of mokṣa itself. This does not mean that a Hindu philosophy of life embraces a relativism, where every path leads to mokṣa or the experience of mokṣa is dependent on the beliefs of the individual. Rather, the history of Hinduism has involved debates and disagreements on how to attain mokṣaand what is precisely experienced thereafter. Some, for example, believe that mokṣa is obtainable by jñāna (knowledge) while for others it is made possible by bhakti (devotion) to a particular deva (God).[ii]

            From this theology emerges the Bhagavad Gītā (The Song of the Lord), which is above all, a text that promotes bhakti (devotion) as the means to mokṣa (liberation from the cycle of birth and rebirth).

 The Bhagavad Gītā (The Song of the Lord)

            The Bhagavad Gītā is a discourse between Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa, and is found within the Mahābhārata, the “Great History of the descendants of Bharata.” The Mahābhārata is one of two great Sanskrit epics of Hinduism (the other being the Ramāyāṇa) and is a bardic tale about cousinly families vying for royal authority, playing a deadly game for control of the kingdom. The Mahābhārata was told in courtly settings between about 300 BCE and 300 CE and reached its final form by around the 4th century CE. The dialogue that is the Bhagavad Gītā, takes place at a critical moment, just as the war is about to begin, when Arjuna is paralyzed with angst,  inbetween the armies of the Pāṇḍava brothers and Kaurava brothers. Arjuna, the third Pāṇḍava brother, drops his weapons, unable to fight, and conveys his dilemma to Kṛṣṇa, his confidante and charioteer. The immediate conversation that follows are arguments put forth by Kṛṣṇa to convince Arjuna to follow his dharma (duty, obligation) as a kṣatriya (warrior) and, therefore, to fight. Subsequent arguments and discussions concern the nature of death itself, the transience of saṃsāra (worldly existence) and the reality and endurance of the ātman.[iii]

            Kṛṣṇa, by the way, is believed by Hindus to be one of 10 avatāras (incarnations) of the god Viṣṇu. At the beginning of the discourse Arjuna is unaware that his friend and charioteer is, in fact, the preeminent god, and that the advice and he is getting and knowledge that is revealed is divine. Hence the text is known as the Bhagavad Gītā, literally “the Song of the Lord.”

            Subsequent conversations in the Bhagavad Gītā revolve around the prerequisites and practices for obtaining mokṣa (liberation from the cycle of birth and rebirth). In these sections Arjuna learns about how to be a proper yogi(disciplined ascetic) and about bhakti (devotion) to Kṛṣṇa. Another central theme in the Gītā concerns how to act, yet not accumulate any karma. To this end Kṛṣṇa teaches that acting niṣkāmakarma (without desire for the fruits of one’s action) does not result in the accumulation of karma. But, as already mentioned, central to the Gītā, and to “Indian River,” are suggestions about the proper attitude towards death and loss, that embraces the cycle of birth and rebirth and that avoids suffering.

            Incidentally, Chapter Eleven, from which Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb, purportedly quoted upon seeing a nuclear blast, is the moment when Kṛṣṇa teaches reveals himself to be God to an awed and reverent Arjuna, who is graced with a mystical experience of the highest order.

            So, what does “Indian River” refer to? How is it connected to the Bhagavad Gītā? And, perhaps most importantly, what does Rick Mitarotonda think it means?

            In brief, “Indian River” may refer to the transience of lives in saṃsāra (worldly existence) yet, at the same time, the enduring nature of the ātman (embodied self).

 Rick Mitarotonda shared his thoughts about “Indian River” in a 2021 interview. He explained:

 It has to do with experiencing loss, people that you are used to interacting with on a physical level no longer being able to do that. And seeking ways to communicate with them in other ways, which is you know, something I struggle with and strive for to this day and will probably never stop that. And you know, it’s about signs. Synchronistic experiences, like you said. And yeah, it’s about trying to communicate with someone who’s no longer here.[iv]

            With this background in mind, I will offer some bhāṣya (commentary) on select passages. Of course, my commentaries are not to be taken as definitive: after all, there is the author’s intent (what did Rick mean?) and the reader’s response (how did the reader (in this case the listener) react?). That said…

This first section of “Indian River” may refer to saṃsāra (the cycle of birth and rebirth) itself and the complexity of communication:

words
they rose loud and clear
from somewhere, from somewhere
the feel of some current

a stream with something to say
experience is all I truly know
when held slow
oh but I move too fast

             And the second section seems to convey the finitude and transience of individual lives, solitary ātman, which will be reborn again and again, until mokṣa is achieved and the ātman escapes the cycle:

is it the wind upon my neck?
is it the swaying of the trees?
well I forget
that time don’t hold us for that long
oh that long

            This next section may concern the loss that Rick experienced, when his friends are no longer able to communicate, except through unusual ways, such as through a dream (dreamed one afternoon long ago?):

your voice is strong now
I heard it in a dream
all your energy growing up in me
and though I know it’s always here
I don’t feel anything at all
just heavy drones
filling up my mind, short piece of time
dropping like a seed in the snow
said I have to let it go
but man, it’s all I know
man, it’s all I know

            I wondered if Rick is referring to vairagya (detachment), idealized in the Bhagavad Gītā, as an acceptance of both the transience of things, and the permanence of an indestructible ātman.

            And surely this next passage concerns the myriads of ways that one can communicate to those who have transcended the material plane:


but I’ll wait to hear
oh I’ll wait to hear the way you
the way you speak now

is it the wind upon my neck?
is it the glowing of the moon?
well I forget
that time don’t hold us for that long
oh that long

            Amidst this reflection one finds this passage from the Bhagavad Gītā. Recall that Arjuna is unable to fight his cousins and is unwilling to participate in or facilitate their deaths. In response to his inability to fight Kṛṣṇa counsels Arjuna about death itself:

You grieve for those beyond grief,

and you speak words of insight;

but learned men do not grieve

for the dead or the living. 11[v]

 

Never have I not existed,

nor you, nor these kings;

and never in the future

shall we cease to exist. 12

 

Just as the embodied self

enters childhood, youth, and old age,

so does it enter another body;

this does not confound a steadfast man. 13

 

Contacts with matter make us feel

heat and cold, pleasure and pain.

Arjuna, you must learn to endure

fleeting things – they come and go! 14

 

When these cannot torment a man,

when suffering and joy are equal

for him and he has courage,

he is fit for immortality. 15

 

Nothing of nonbeing comes to be,

nor does being cease to exist;

the boundary between these two

is seen by men who see reality. 16

 

and the passage used in “Indian River”

 

avinasi tu tad viddhi
yena sarvam idam tatam
vinasam avyayasyasya
na kascit kartum arhati

 

Indestructible is the presence

that pervades all this;

no one can destroy

this unchanging reality. 17

 

Our bodies are known to end,

but the embodied self is enduring,

indestructible, and immeasurable; 18

             It is undeniable that these passages from the Gītā suggest ways to think about death that embrace the transience of saṃsāra (worldly life) and the permanence of the ātman (enduring self). If one were to embrace these right cognitive habits, as Kṛṣṇa exhorts Arjuna, then one will not suffer from the death or loss of a friend.

            I wonder if Rick is trying to communicate with his lost friends, who are no longer in the material plane, in every song he plays, and certainly in every jam he journeys on. His eyes are usually closed when he enters/ initiates an improvisational jam, and often mine are too. I know that the notes that he plays takes me on my own journeys, usually outside of language, where communication is something altogether different…perhaps resembling Chapter 11 of the Gītā.

            And again, like so many Goose songs, “Indian River” is a story of a journey of discovery, enlightenment, and resolution. After all… “if you take a tumble, if you take a spill, there a lesson to be learned and a cup to refill.” Death, our own and our friends’, is inevitable but suffering is not…

What does Rick think about when he is jamming with his eyes closed in this song?

Is he able to communicate with his friends and loved ones, who are now inhabiting a different plane of existence?

I hope that one day I get to ask him.

 I do suspect that his experience, like Arjuna’s, is outside of language, ineffable, marvelous, transformative, and transcendent…


NOTES

[i] For more see Sarma, Deepak. Classical Indian Philosophy: A Reader. (Columbia UP: NY, 2011)

[ii] For more see Sarma, Deepak. “Hinduism.” In How to Live a Good Life. Edited by Massimo Pigliucci, Skye Cleary, and Daniel Kaufman. (Vintage: NY, 2022).

[iii] For more see Sarma, Deepak. Hinduism: A Reader. (Blackwell: Oxford, 2007).

[iv] Sunder, Dennis. “Indian River: Rick from Goose on Music, Spiritual Seeking, and Hare Krishna Connections.” Dec. 7, 2021. (online)  https://satsangstories.wordpress.com/2020/12/07/indian-river/

[v] Bhagavad Gītā 2.11-2.18. All translations from Barbara Stoler Miller (tr.), The Bhagavad Gitā: New York: Bantam Books, 1986.

Goose and Vaiṣṇavism: “Madhuvan” and “Indian River.”

Goose and Vaiṣṇavism: “Madhuvan” and “Indian River.”

Deepak Sarma

Professor of Religious Studies

Case Western Reserve University

 

     My ear for improvisational music is a direct result of my parents’ passion for Karnatic music, the south Indian devotional music, where virtuosos develop ragas and then elaborate on musical themes, engaging in playful “conversations” with one another. Learning to listen to the highly technical improvisations was and is integral to my careful concentration and appreciation.

     When I really listened to Goose for the first time, I found the spontaneity and creativity of the lead guitarist to be simply entrancing. It is, moreover, part of the Parampara (lineage) from Ravi Shankar to John Coltrane to the Grateful Dead, and to the amazing diversity of jam bands in the world today.[1]

     But, when I came across the song “Madhuvan” (released June 4, 2021, on Shenanigans Nite Club), I was incredulous to the fact that it revealed a real and tangible Indian and Hindu influence. My incredulity was demolished when I read anarticle in The El Goose Times[2] and Dennis Sunder’s April 2021 interview with Rick Mitarotonda[3], which referenced and solidified these connections. After a bit more sleuthing, I found this press release from May 14, 2021[4]:

 

     "Madhuvan" references the story of Dhruva and his quest for enlightenment, originally written in the Bhagavata Purana. The song is an exploratory journey, examining life's most beautiful offerings and most dangerous pitfalls.

 

     "The underlying idea is questioning what you’re pursuing and that, ultimately, true fulfillment often comes from something other than outer acquisition," says guitarist/vocalist Rick Mitarotonda.

 

     How exciting!

 

     I was also pleasantly surprised that another wonderful song, “Indian River,” was relevant to Hinduism, and not to Native Americans but to the Bhagavad Gita!

 

     I am sure that many Goose devotees also read the article in The El Goose Times or even read the 2021 interview, and so are now familiar with these Hindu associations. In this brief article, I intend to provide curious Goose aficionados with a few more details about these two songs and their Hindu/ISKCON (International Society for Krishna Consciousness) foundations, so that they may derive, discover, and uncover more meaning from them. To this end, I will first offer an overview of the assumed religious context. Then, I will offer a reflection on Krishna, with specific reference, of course, to Madhuvan. Finally, in part two (in process), I will delve into details of the Bhagavad Gita and the passages quoted in “Indian River.” If my gentle readers’ appreciation of these songs and knowledge of Hinduism is enhanced, then I will have achieved my goal.

 

     Broadly speaking, all the philosophical and religious schools extant in India, other than the Cārvaka (materialist skeptic) and Abrahamic ones, shared a belief in the mechanism of karma, that one’s actions in earlier lives affected both one’s rebirth as well as the events that are to occur in one’s future lives. The entity that was reborn is the ātman, which is born again and again. One accumulates some combination of puṇya (meritorious karma) or pāpa (demeritorious karma), popularly rendered in the “West” as “good” and “bad” karma. The accumulated karma manifests itself until it is depleted or until more is accrued. Karma is thus linked with a belief that one is reborn after one dies and that the type of body that one inhabits (and has inhabited in the past) is indexed to puṇya and pāpa. This cycle of birth and rebirth, in which everyone is bound, is called saṃsāra (worldly existence).[5]

     Though the schools and traditions of Hinduism differ widely on the origins and precise function of these mechanisms of karma and saṃsāra, they all agree that they exist. They also all share an interest in ending this seemingly endless cycle, and this desire is their raison d’être. The state that sentient beings enter after being liberated is called mokṣa among the Hindu traditions. In Buddhism, this state is called nirvāṇa. The status and characteristics of mokṣa differ vastly between schools of thought and traditions of Hinduism. Some, but not all, Hindu traditions offer systematic methods by which adherents can break the cycle and attain the desired end. Life as a Hindu means having mokṣa as the telos or endpoint, whether one thinks about it constantly or begins to think about it only when confronting what appears to be one’s inevitable, if only temporary, death.

     Each Hindu believes that it is possible to be liberated from the cycle of birth and rebirth. They differ, though, on the process by which one attains mokṣa and on the experience of mokṣa itself. This does not mean that a Hindu philosophy of life embraces a relativism, where every path leads to mokṣa or the experience of mokṣa is dependent on the beliefs of the individual. Rather, the history of Hinduism has involved debates and disagreements on how to attain mokṣa and what is precisely experienced thereafter. Some, for example, believe that mokṣa is obtainable by jñāna (knowledge) while for others it is made possible by bhakti (devotion) to a particular deva (God).[6] Rick Mitarotonda was influenced by the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) when he was living in Denver, having first come across them in Fort Collins in 2014.[7] According to a 2021 interview, Rick

…got involved, sang with them, ate the food, and had the discussions which were really enriching. And was like wow, you know, this is great, and I started going every week. And as time progressed, I started spending more time with them. Started going down to the temple in Denver and helping out here and there and going to the different events they were having and stuff like that and just got more involved with the whole program.[8]

 

     ISKCON is preeminently a bhakti tradition with Kṛṣṇa, not surprisingly, as its focus.

 

     The god that is central to both “Madhuvan” and “Indian River” is Kṛṣṇa. Who is Kṛṣṇa? Where can stories about him be found?

 

     Kṛṣṇa is believed by Hindus to be one of 10 avatāras (incarnations) of the god Viṣṇu. There are ten avatāras that are traditional: Matsya (the Fish); Kūrma (the tortoise); Varāha (the boar); Narasiṃha (the man-lion); Vāmana (the dwarf);Paraśurāma (Rāma with the axe); Rāma; Kṛṣṇa; Buddha; and, finally, Kalki. There are a number of texts, most prominently the Purāṇas (Stories of the Ancient Past), part of the Hindu canon where stories about Kṛṣṇa are to be found. The Bhāgavata Purāṇa, or the Bhāgavata, as it is known to its readers, is devoted largely to Kṛṣṇa. Kṛṣṇa, who appears as an adult in the Mahābhārata (the Bhagavad Gītā is found in this larger text), is depicted in the Bhāgavata amidst līlā(play), as a baby, as a child, and as an amorous young adult cavorting with gopis (cowgirls). The stories are intended to inspire bhakti for listeners. The story of Dhruva, mentioned by Rick in the press release and in his interview as the impetus for the song “Madhuvan,” is found in the Bhāgavata. The Bhāgavata is central to several traditions of Hinduism, including, as mentioned, the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, which has its roots in the Bengali tradition of Caitanya, and which seemed to have had a significant impact on Rick!

 

Madhuvan

     Sanskrit words often have many different meanings, depending upon the context in which the word is used, the text in which it is found, and even the time period it was used in. The Sanskrit word “madhu” overlaps with several different words in English, including “sweet,” “delightful,” and “honey,” and when combined with the suffix “-van” it can be an epithet for the god Viṣṇu. When connected with Kṛṣṇa, however, the term has a very specific meaning and refers to aforest on the western bank of the Yamunā river, believed to be in the home of Vṛndāvana, the region where Kṛṣṇa is believed to have grown up. It is also the location where Dhruva has his enlightening, heroic, and epic journey.

 

     The story of Dhruva is the story of a journey of discovery and enlightenment, which is a variant of the “hero’s journey,” theorized about by J. Campbell in his The Hero with a Thousand Faces[9] and elsewhere and found in so many different religions, cultures, and worlds. The story is superbly (and accurately) translated by Edwin Bryant in his Bhakti Yoga: Tales and Teaching from the Bhāgavata Purāṇa (pp. 292-311), so I will not offer a detailed account here.[10] In brief, the story concerns Dhruva, who has been rejected by his father because of his birth, and consequently goes on a journey, initially to challenge God about his pedigree, in which he encounters many trials and tribulations, triumphs and tragedies. In the process, Dhruva’s journey morphs into a journey to understanding God, in this case Viṣṇu/Kṛṣṇa, and his relationship to God. His determination is magnificent, and he transforms into an archetypal bhakta (devotee) and eventually attains mokṣa. He is thus graced with a divine vision, both internal and external, of Viṣṇu, and is lauded for his determination and his devotion.

     Here is how Rick himself understands the plot of the story as related to him by an ISKCON devotee named Govinda:

The way I understand it, so there was a king… Dhruva was the son of a king who had two wives. He might have been a straight up bastard son, I’m not really sure. But basically, the king had a wife who was kind of the queen, and maybe had a second wife… or maybe Dhruva’s mom was a like a servant or something. So Dhruva’s mom was lesser than. And the king’s actual queen, actual wife did not like Dhruva at all. She was really mean to Dhruva and was very not accepting and would say things like “You’ll never have the throne, like my son will inherit the throne and you’re nothing”. The father the king was kind of cool to both of them, but the mother was like ruthless apparently. So a few things happened and eventually he got older and kind of realized that this whole situation is messed up and he set out… he left the whole scene there, went into the Madhuvan forest, and started performing really, really intense… uh what’s the term you use?[11]   

 

     When he was in Colorado, Rick was on a self-described spiritual journey, not unlike Dhruva.

He explains:

  the spiritual awakening for me personally started when I experienced some loss in my life, and started experiencing grief, and wondering where people that were so integral in my life, such an important part of my life, that were no longer here anymore, [12]you know… I was always when I was younger- even before all that happened- interested in the unknown, interested in mystery and occult ideas and things like that. But you never really- it’s hard to really need to dig, to need to seek when you’re comfortable. Life has a way of driving you certain places. You’re not going to- for me at least, I wasn’t really going to start asking questions in a very poignant way until I needed to. At that point after a bunch of people that I looked up to were no longer here, I needed to know more about what’s actually going on here, you know. That’s really where the real spiritual quest, if you will, began. 

 

     And, furthermore,

 

    But I remember Govinda ended up telling me that story of Dhruva, and it was sort of, you know a personal connection to the story. He told me the story and it really stuck with me. And it morphed into a metaphor for that song that I was working on.

 

     In this way, “Madhuvan” relates the journey that Dhruva, Rick, and anyone else might take; that is, transformative and requiring steadfastness, perseverance, and perhaps even courage.

     This metaphor for the hero on a spiritual journey is echoed in so many Goose songs, including “Seekers on the Ridge” (I and II), “Western Sun,” and perhaps even “Elmeg the Wise.” And, the metaphor for tenacity and optimism is found, of course, in “Tumble.”

 

“Madhuvan” lyrics

     With these details in mind, the lyrics and meaning may become more transparent to the discerning and enlightened reader.[13] While these are some suggestions, they are not to be taken as definitive. After all, there is always the author’s intended meaning and the meaning understood and experienced by the listener. That said…

 

     The beginning of “Madhuvan” references challenges and determination:

always almost there…


that ledge is the only thing I ever see
born in the heat to keep it always out of my reach
grab on a hold each treasure while you go
before they turn to sand this man is all alone

 

     Here is how Rick explained it in his 2021 interview with Dennis Sunder:

 So it’s sort of like… and “always almost there” kind of ties into that as well. The idea is like, I know a lot of people and see it in myself- there’s always- you’re always striving for something. There’s always like, alright I just need to get through this month and then I’ll be good. Or I just need to get this thing, like I need to get a new house, I need to get a new couch, if I get that new couch then I’ll be good. If I get the new guitar then I’ll be good. If I get a girlfriend then I’ll be good. It’s kind of like this constant spiral of thinking that you need something outside of yourself. And the ledge is sort of the metaphor for that for me. Sort of like this thing that I want to get to that is above myself, and it just takes up my vision. It’s the only thing I see. It’s all I care about. I think you know, recognizing that that’s the case, and that’s, you know, where you are. And having self-awareness that all you care about is this one goal, with the full simultaneous awareness that once you achieve that goal, are you going to really be… if I ever get up there, am I really going to be fine then? Or am I just going to be lost and then try to figure out what the next ledge is, you know?[14]

 

     And, moreover:

 

… in the verse I pictured like a guy walking through the desert- it’s almost like there’s three narratives going on at once in that song, in my mind. I mean, at the end of the day it’s a song and people can derive whatever meaning, you know. At a certain point like, what makes what I think about it more valid than anyone else? But yeah, the verses are sort of, there’s like there’s some person who’s walking through these dunes, this desert. And he’s kind of lost or whatever, and he kind of finds this truth somewhere. Up and down up and down… you find that your bones turn to rust and stuff like that, you find that you’re burning yourself out trying to get whatever your ledge is, you know. Everyone’s chasing their ledges whatever they are, and you burn yourself doing that. But I guess this guy in the desert figured it out at some point and had beads, the chanting beads, and chose that path to realizing that none of the ledges, none of the external things to himself are what’s gonna make him good. It’s in himself. He chose the chanting path to get there.[15] 

 

     And the choices and transformations in the journey itself:

haze

what a storm what a maze
which one

which one, which one's the way
lust

lost his trust
now roams the barren dunes
bones continue to rust

 

     It is plausible that the cycle of karma-saṃsāra (birth and rebirth) is references here:

up and down, up and down
up and down, up and down
up and down, up and down
up and down, up and down
we go

always almost there

 

     And perhaps here the proximity of Viṣṇu, who has never been far away and is always close for the devoted:

that ledge is the only thing I ever see
worn so hollow from that shadow over me
boundless above, my ancient holds it close
‘over, still closer than I’ve ever known

 

     As mentioned, Dhruva is at first seeking to right the wrong of his pedigree, an entirely materialist endeavor, but then this is replaced by a spiritual and non-materialistic goal:

 

well if I had it all, if I had it all
What life would leave me satisfied?

all of this gold, all of this gold
it don't weigh enough to make this life

whole

 

     And then his realization and divine vision of Viṣṇu (whose feet are characterized at times as lotuses):

shelter
something felt

sure
molten beads of his lotus feet
dangle by his belt
pure, pure, pure

 

     The beads, as Rick himself explained, is in reference to malas (prayer beads), most likely made from the wood of the tulasi plant (Ocimum tenuiflorum). The Tulasi mala, with 108 beads, is especially sacred for devotees of Kṛṣṇa/Viṣṇu. The use of the word “shelter” here is significant since Kṛṣṇa is held to protect and shield his devotees, is someone with whom one can find refuge. There is a well-known story in which Kṛṣṇa holds Mount Govardhana over his head and shelters his entire village from a storm unleashed by the god Indra.[16]

     What then follows is an undeniable reference to the story as found in the Bhāgavata Purāṇa:

 

Bhagavatam

dhruva, madhuvan
Deep into the forest

he will go
No more demon roars

 

     I suspect that the characterization of the forest as having “no more demons roars” is in reference to another myth, which details the destruction of the Asura (a class of being) named Madhu by Viṣṇu, who lived in the Madhuvan forest.[17]

 

     The song concludes with another reflection about the spiritual life as preferable over the materialist one:

if I had it all, if I had it all
what life would leave me satisfied?
all of this gold, all of this gold

don't weigh enough to make this life whole

 

     Recall, the 2021 press release:

 

"Madhuvan" references the story of Dhruva and his quest for enlightenment, originally written in the Bhagavata Purana. The song is an exploratory journey, examining life's most beautiful offerings and most dangerous pitfalls.

 

"The underlying idea is questioning what you’re pursuing and that, ultimately, true fulfillment often comes from something other than outer acquisition," says guitarist/vocalist Rick Mitarotonda.

 

     “Madhuvan” is a very beautiful song indeed. Surely, others have had an epiphany when listening to it. Dhruva, having attained the divine vision is characterized in Bhāgavata Purāṇa 4.12.18:

 

“Carried away by his bhakti to Bhagavān, Hari, he was continually overwhelmed with tear drops of ecstasy (ānanda) flowing ceaselessly. His body was covered with hairs that stood on end due to bliss, and his heart melted. Freed from the subtle body, he lost awareness of his body.”[18]

 

 

Part Two in process…


[1] See Lavezzoli, Peter. The Dawn of Indian Music in the West. (Continuum: NY, 2007).

[2] DaRosa, Andrew. “Madhuvan.” The El Goose Times. Vol. 4, Winter/Spring 2022, p. 12. https://www.elgoosetimes.com/volume-archive/volume-four-winter-2022

[3] Sunder, Dennis. “Rick From the Band Goose: An Interview and My Reflections.” ISCKCON News (online) https://iskconnews.org/rick-from-the-band-goose-an-interview-and-my-reflections/

[4] https://myemail.constantcontact.com/Goose-share-the-10-minute-odyssey-that-is--Madhuvan---new-album-out-June-4.html?aid=RsHOki3lgZQ&soid=1101984419757

 

[5] For more see Sarma, Deepak. Classical Indian Philosophy: A Reader. (Columbia UP: NY, 2011)

[6] For more see Sarma, Deepak. “Hinduism.” In How to Live a Good Life. Edited by Massimo Pigliucci, Skye Cleary, and Daniel Kaufman. (Vintage: NY, 2022).

[7] Sunder, Dennis. “Indian River: Rick from Goose on Music, Spiritual Seeking, and Hare Krishna Connections.” Dec. 7, 2021. (online)  https://satsangstories.wordpress.com/2020/12/07/indian-river/

[8] Sunder, Dennis. “Indian River: Rick from Goose on Music, Spiritual Seeking, and Hare Krishna Connections.” Dec. 7, 2021. (online)  https://satsangstories.wordpress.com/2020/12/07/indian-river/

[9] Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. (New World Library: NY, 2008).

[10] Bryan, Edwin. Bhakti Yoga: Tales and Teaching from the Bhagavata Purana. (North Point Press: NY, 2017).

[11] Sunder, Dennis. “Indian River: Rick from Goose on Music, Spiritual Seeking, and Hare Krishna Connections.” Dec. 7, 2021. (online)  https://satsangstories.wordpress.com/2020/12/07/indian-river/

 

[12] I will return to this theme of grief and loss in my forthcoming analysis of “Indian River.”

[13] “Madhuvan” lyrics from https://www.goosetheband.com/madhuvan-lyrics

[14] Sunder, Dennis. “Indian River: Rick from Goose on Music, Spiritual Seeking, and Hare Krishna Connections.” Dec. 7, 2021. (online)  https://satsangstories.wordpress.com/2020/12/07/indian-river/

 

[15] Sunder, Dennis. “Indian River: Rick from Goose on Music, Spiritual Seeking, and Hare Krishna Connections.” Dec. 7, 2021. (online)  https://satsangstories.wordpress.com/2020/12/07/indian-river/

[16] https://www.clevelandart.org/art/2001.45

[17] See Mahābhārata Book 12.

[18] Translation from Bryan, Edwin. Bhakti Yoga: Tales and Teaching from the Bhagavata Purana. (North Point Press: NY, 2017).

Risk and Irony.

            I am a second-generation Indian immigrant, also known as an ABCD - American Born Confused Desi, whose parents left India arrived in the United States in 1968. My parents were among a very small group of educated Indians who had risked everything to take the adventure of a lifetime. My parents and many from their generation were doctors, scientists, and engineers. They first questioned, and then abandoned the orthodox religious world of their parents and peers, and who struggled against all odds to get a STEM oriented education. 

I am sure you must have heard various versions of their valiant stories –how they somehow managed to get an education in India in some very challenging circumstances. My father, for example, had a very orthodox father who did not feel compelled to spend as much time and money on his 12 children’s education as he did on religious articles, activities, and books. Studying for his exams under a streetlight and banking on the help of distant relatives and the voice of his well-earned grades, my father somehow managed to get his PhD and to secure post-doctoral positions in the UK and eventually in the United States. He arrived in the UK with only a few pounds in his pocket but with aspirations and compelling drive. 

His adventure to America was similarly challenging and precarious. Arriving in JFK Airport in NY, now with a 14-month-old infant in tow, their connection flight to Washington DC was, at first delayed, then cancelled, and then rerouted via LaGuardia airport. Finally landing in DC in the wee hours of the morning, more than 24 hours after they first left London, my parents were ready to begin their new life in America. 

 The most important thread that runs through this and many other immigrant stories I have heard is the willingness to take risks. I believe that they made radical changes in their life by finding and taking these decisions in the small number of opportunities that were available to them. They took risks and, for the large part, they succeeded. They now have big, beautiful families (with grandchildren), beautiful homes, substantial retirement income, stories of travails and triumphs. 

            The greatest irony is that, despite their willingness to take risk, their children- the late 60’s and early 70’s born ABCD, (my cohort) are terribly risk averse. The vast majority of this early generation of ABCDs were born and bred to become brilliant doctors, engineers, and scientists. They excelled in their early educations and became the valedictorians of their high schools and earned admission to top public and private universities and colleges. 

It is in these higher education contexts, where risk (educational, social, creative, or otherwise) is championed that the ABCDs took the most well-trodden, predictable, and safest paths. In fact, they were (and many of the younger ABCDs still are) so risk averse that they only took classes that would not threaten their fragile GPAs (and egos). This meant, of course, that they took only science and math classes and avoided the social sciences (to a small degree) and the humanities (to a large degree). Ironically, they did not have the desire to expand their minds and lives as did their parents. 

            There is no doubt that their achievements are commendable given that they were sometimes doubly ostracized for the ethnicity and for their high grades and that they often broke the glass ceiling of white privilege in America. I do not mean or intend to disparage them in this way. Rather, it is sad that their interests in anything other than scientifically oriented majors (or in many cases, in anything that cannot help them get into medical school) has been eradicated, or that they are not willing to risk anything that could jeopardize their medical school plans. 

            This is indeed ironic since their parents risked everything to get to the States, and, in some sense, to give their children (and grandchildren) the freedom and opportunity that they sought when they were in India. Included in this, of course, is the freedom to take risks. 

            So, these first-generation immigrants who took such a great risk have children who are not willing to take any at all. Of course, some of the blame is on the first-generation parents who did not encourage this risk-taking, which, ironically, is what got them to the United States in the first place!

            I am fortunate that my parents have encouraged me to take risks. Though I first began as a combined Math and Engineering major at NYU/ Cooper Union, I transferred to Reed College to pursue a degree in Religious Studies, with a focus on Hinduism and Indian philosophy, eventually to get a PhD on the same subject from the University of Chicago. At first my parents were agonized by this re-orientation but then realized that they too had taken tremendous risks, and that I should be able to as well, and they encouraged and supported me in every way that they could. Though my children are not yet college-age, I too have emboldened then to excel at, and to embrace, any subject, and not just science and math related ones.

            So, for those of you who are new first-generation immigrants, who are taking a risk by coming to the United States, remember this if and when you have children of your own who are American citizens. While you may want them to follow the STEM path, permit them to risk, if only a little, in their adolescents, teenage years, and, perhaps most importantly, when they are matriculating in colleges and universities. If you do not, then you risk the irony of preventing risk.

Hinduism: death, mourning and renewal

            Hindus believe that each and every thinking creature has a soul (atman) that accumulates karma (good and bad) and is born again and again in the cycle of birth and rebirth. The status and location of one’s future births is believed to be directly linked to the karma that every living being has accumulated over the current, and even during past lifetimes. Birth as a human is regarded as especially auspicious, both for the person, and of course, for the parents and family of that person. We are brought together as families and friends because of our good karma, because of the good deeds that we did in the past. 

            In light of this important belief and understanding about the very nature of the universe, a person’s passing away has very different meanings and connotations for Hindus: the body may have ceased in some ways, but the soul (atman) persists and in fact, has always been independent of the body it temporarily inhabited. Krishna instructs Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita, perhaps the most well-known text sacred to many Hindus, that “It (the atman) is not born, it does not die; Having been, it will never not be.” (BG 2.20) After a person has breathed one last time, when their prana (life force) has departed, Hindus believe that the atman also rises out of the body and, after a brief transitional phase, and is eventually born into a new family, depending on the karma accrued. Krishna explains “Just as a person puts on new garments after discarding the old ones, similarly, the living entity or the individual soul acquires new bodies after casting away the old bodies.” (BG 2.22) When a loved one passes away family and friends symbolically thus bear witness to this journey into a new body, a new life, and as a new human infant. 

            While it is indeed sad to be reminded of the transience of life, there is an underlying optimism and gratitude for the time spent together, thanks for the mutually shared and good karma. There is gratitude for having the karma to have been able to know and love the deceased. There is optimism that the loved one will have a pleasant journey towards their next life. Death is not really death. Rather it is the continuation of the passage of the atman, a regeneration for the atman(soul) as it moves towards its next life. 

            It is also believed by Hindus that this voyage, this cycle of birth and rebirth, will eventually come to an end and the atman (soul) will no longer be reborn but will obtain, earn, or be graced with moksha (liberation) from the cycle itself. This is believed to take thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of lives and rebirths to achieve, It may be that it was this particular life gave the loved one the chance to transcend rebirth and to not inhabit, if only metaphorically, a better place, a place no longer bound by the bonds of karma. This is the ultimate aim and desire for Hindus.

            When they grieve, Hindus encourage one another to remember that their loved one is on the way to another birth, or perhaps, has already risen above and beyond time and space, good and bad karma, birth and rebirth and has achieved moksha. Krishna tells Arjuna in the Gita that “Death is certain for one who has been born, and rebirth is inevitable for one who has died. Therefore, you should not lament over the inevitable.” (BG 2.27) Hindus mourn for select time periods (between 10 and 13 days) and this mourning involves rituals, found in the Garuda Purana, a Hindu funerary text, to help and assist in rebirth, to regenerate, and that serve to remind friend and families of their karma, to have shared a world and a life with the deceased. Families might perform pujas (worship rituals), chant mantras (sacred prayers), sing bhajans (devotional music), or just gather to share caring memories of their loved one. Families also remember their departed loved ones every year and have memorials to reminisce, to commemorate, and even celebrate their lives and memories. The support and love of friends and families is welcomed and cherished. 

            For Hindus, then, the atman temporarily resides in a body as it is born again and again into new bodies, eventually to be liberated from the cycle and enter moksha. Hindus mourn for the loss of their loved one, knowing that prayers and good wishes will help them in their travels and welcome their relative, friends and communities to join them in this way. The memorials and remembrances are thus sources for renewal and regeneration for the grieving family and for the community of relatives and friends as a whole. Death may be inescapable for Hindus, but so is rebirth and the inevitability of moksha.

"Malcolm and Marie" and adbhuta-rasa, the experience of wonder.

Just finished watching "Malcolm and Marie" (Netflix 2021). My reflections on it are in direct opposition to the reviews that other critics have already put forth. I found that film to be filled with and dominated with the rasa (emotion) adbhuta (wonder), to have a very powerful dialogue that manifests resentment, karuna (sorrow), raudra (anger), bibhatsya (disgust), and always, in some tangible and intangible way, shringara (love/beauty). I found the actors to convey these emotions beautifully, and I felt as if I was there in the film, not only watching from some Archimedean point, but so immersed in it that I felt that the arc of the film, of their narrative, of their conversation was mine as was their situation. The use of the monochromatic was overwhelming and I felt, as if I was watching a kind of performance art, which could have been frozen and photographed and admired as such. I recommend it. But if you do choose to see it, prepare yourself to be transformed.

"Soni": low key yet very powerful indeed.

Just finished watching "Soni" (Netflix 2018), a docudrama about two women working in the Delhi police force. In a powerful yet low key way, the films addresses gender imbalances, misogyny and sexism in the police force itself and in Delhi. The film focusses on two police women who forge a friendship amidst this sexist and dangerous world. It definitely does not have the energy and optimism of Mardaani, but perhaps, in this way, it is more realistic and more compelling. Recommended.

Pause a minute to watch "Unpaused"

Watched "Unpaused" (Netflix 2020), a collection of 5 short films concerning Covid and post-Covid life in India. I enjoyed the majority of these shorts which evoked sorrow, loneliness, desperation, love, and hope during the time of Covid. While many were predictable that did not reduce their strength or their ability to induce the intended sthayibhava (emotion). Several also addressed issues concerning social justice --including sexual abuse and sexual harassment, disparities in social class, treatment of migrant workers and so on. I am considering using these in my class on Bollywood and Social Justice. Grade for film: "A." Recommended.

"Ship of Theseus" (2012): Hindu and Jain bioethical reflections

Just finished watching "Ship of Theseus" (2012), an Indian Indie film written and directed by Anand Gandhi. This superb film weaves together three stories about and relating to organ transplantation, resultant challenges to ones identity, and reflections about death. The film is really amazing. The first segment concerns a photographer who has lost her site but then receives a corneal transplant. The second, by far my favorite, concerns a Jain monk who is fighting against the treatment of animals by the pharmaceutical industry, but then is faces a challenging dilemma when he must chose to be reliant upon them, or not. Incidentally there is a sarvada (debate) between the monk and a skeptic, not surprisingly named Carvaka. The third segment concerns, among other things, the international organ trafficking. I definitely will show this to students next time I teach my Hindu and Bioethics class (and the Jain segment to my Indian philosophy class). Very highly recommend. Superb.

"White Tiger": More questions than answers

Watched "White Tiger" (Netflix 2021) last night. Disclosures --Aravind Adiga is my cousin's wife's nephew. While the film was enjoyable it also seemed typical of a new genre of representations of India that appeal to a global audience with social justice aspirations (eg. "Slum Dog Millionaire"). I am reminded of similar and select presentations of life in the Indian subcontinent by English colonial missionaries and bureaucrats to a captive audience in England as a means of justifying British imperialism and colonization. See, for example the "Papers Relating to East India Affairs, viz Hindoo Widows and Voluntary Immolations" published by the House of Commons in London between 1797 and 1830. Are films like these just a newer version of viewing the other as "savage," intriguing, and exotic? Added to this, Adiga is a high class/ caste privileged Indian writing about the struggles of oppressed. Is he an Indian version of Kathryn Stockett, author of "The Help" (2009)? Is Adiga aspiring to be (or has he co-opted for his own financial gain) the voice of the subaltern? Can the same be said of me and my work in my CWRU class "Bollywood and Social Justice"? While these questions are good ones, one that I am troubled by (especially after the recent insurrection and violence in DC), is violence ever a justifiable means for instituting social change? And when resorted to by the oppressed, does it merely confirm the stereotypes set by the privileged that the oppressed are brutal, wild, and undomesticated, and, consequently, less than human? Great questions. No answers. Film was worth watching, if only to stimulate discussion about these issues.