India. If you have been there, I’ll bet there is a knowing smile on your face. If not,  well, let me introduce you to a place where the word “duality” does not begin to explain what you will experience, on every dimension. Because nothing can prepare you for the incomparable enigma, the love/hate paradox that is India. And if you can roll with it, sit with what it stirs inside you, you will find a pearl that will change you forever.

Two years ago I went to the Mungar India. To get there, we caught the overnight train from Kolkata train station. People live there. People with leprosy, people with profound physical disabilities drag their bodies over the rubbish, spit, urine and faeces that cover the floor. Gratitude for my health, my family’s health and wellbeing and gratitude that it was not my karma to be born into that life. Followed by a considerable amount of guilt at the revulsion and repulsion I felt at the close proximity of these people to myself.

Feeling guilt for having so much health and wealth in my life. While I was busy indulging in guilt, the most physically deformed person I have ever seen, is roaring with laughter at some joke. Which may well have been me. The constant visual, auditory and olfactory invasion overloads, fried my brain. I was in the most profound state of culture shock, a physical reactionary shock, that I have ever experienced.

A 12 hour overnight train ride through the countryside (I will spare you the details of the toilets) and we are in Bihar, the state where Buddha attained enlightenment under the Boddhi tree. Goats, cows, dogs, donkeys and all the road apples they leave behind have replaced much of the seething Kolkata humanity. But runny nosed, skinny children scour the ever present rubbish heaps for food, tin cans or anything remotely useable or edible. The Spartan experience of living in an ashram for 3 weeks sleeping on a wooden board, sharing the omnipresent and the hygienically questionable potato sabji with hundreds of other people breaks down my protective mechanisms and I have no choice but to enter into acceptance. There is no other option (except maybe hysteria).

The shock begins to wear off and I begin to see, hear and feel the beauty and the gift.

The waning moon and stars are setting as the orange and pink sunrise begins to throw light onto the swami’s private temple, ochre buildings that we are preparing for his morning sadhana.

The Qawwali singers welcome this and every dawn with a timeless, ethereal wailing that evokes primordial memories that I didn’t even know I had.  Buried for thousands of years in some unknown DNA strand. I feel overwhelmed with gratitude and wonderment at being in this ancient, exotic and authentic experience. A pearl forever in my memory. A few hours later, the daily ritual of burning (used) toilet paper, that seems to get stuck in your nose, your mouth your hair, your clothes, your psyche.

It took me two years to go back and this time was to Dharmasala in Northern India. Divine intervention blessed me with being in the presence of His Holiness the Dali Lama on my first day (seriously big shiny pearl)!

The rest of the trip rolled on as the Magical Mystery Tour. Or Mr Toads Wild Ride.  Sufi dancing at midnight in the Himalayas where your body ceases to move and the mountains and stars rapidly rotate around you. Trying to pay respectful homage at a sacred Sikh shrine where the holiness for me is lost in the air smelling of burning tyres and feeling that Mother Earth is screaming for mercy.

Visiting The Golden Temple in Amritsar on Diwali Eve when three billion enlightened souls who have obtained samadi revisit the temple. Feeling the electricity, the vortex of sacred energy where every hair on your body is standing upright. Our attention was quickly drawn to the HUGE temple guards (with meter long sabers) that quickly and vehemently moved us along, as women were not allowed to put their feet in the nectar waters (except in a tiny pavilion).

The duality. The irony of such a sacred place and moment being overshadowed by the reality of systematic misogyny. Walking back to the 5 star hotel and passing starving dogs whose engorged nipples dragged the ground, their life energy drained to provide food for another litter of puppies who will most likely starve. An ancient and ageless culture, embodied and embalmed with ecstasy, enlightenment, merciless poverty, breath taking beauty and unimaginable filth.

Somehow the sheer scale of the extremity of opposites creates an oxymoron that increases my sense of gratitude, compassion, tolerance, detachment and possibly above all acceptance and patience.

Doesn’t seem to make sense, does it? Incredible India.

Susan Buckland is a Registered Nurse and an Ayurveda Lifestyle Consultant. With an understanding of both ancient Eastern and Western wellness/illness modalities, her extensive educational and communication background allows her to provide her clients with a clear understanding of the holistic benefits of an Ayurvedic lifestyle.

Susan runs The Heart of the Universe Centre at the Yarramalong Valley and is available for consultations, massages and lifestyle advice.