Life happens in two parts: the first half, in which you are taught to ‘speed it up’ to survive. This is done via timed tests, races, project deadlines. In the other half, you are told to ‘slow it down’ if you want to live. This is done via meditation, yoga, and inspirational retreats.

This bifurcation has happened sometime as evolution happened, when we chose to walk on two limbs, instead of four.

And, I think those who are still ambulating on four limbs are having the last laugh.

This realization came to me as I participated in a ‘Meditation Camp’ this weekend: in which we learnt to make strange noises, make funny random movements, while shutting out our thinking faculties. The squirrels and hedgehogs outside the room, were doing the same and not paying a penny for it. I could almost see their speech blurbs,

“Look, Bruce those poor losers!! Trying to undo one bad decision they made…I hear they call it ‘evolution’. What does it mean?’

‘Lizzy, I think it means ‘foolish-smart-ass-process-of-finally-ending-up-with-egg-in-the-face’

So, here I was, in comfortable loose clothing in soothing colours, trying to see ‘imagery related to life forces’ as I concentrated deeply, to soothing music.

My neighbour reached some kind of transcendental moment and reported seeing red and blue flames, leaping from a radiant object, in a plume of esoteric fusion.

I saw a hedgehog.

For a brief moment I considered sharing that in the group. But, managed to take a quick decision, that probably saved my life!

I mean, aren’t those gurus known to open their third eye, and scorch you to a heap of ash if they are displeased.

But, not my guru – he was very pleased. He laughed a lot and asked us to laugh a lot: in those sessions where you are made to laugh forcibly. He pleaded, requested, and threatened us into laughing. My neighbour laughed to save her life.

She looked petrified as she broke into peals of laughter.

Another participant, Richard, protested, saying, this laughter task could send him into depression. But guruji was insistent, and gently persuaded him by beating him with a short stick.

I doubled up with laughter watching all this. I performed very well in this task I guess.

The other task I did quite well was the one in which we had to dance with blindfolds on. I guess they meant some kind of mystic dance, in union with the supreme being. But, since they did not specify, I took creative liberties, getting Munni and Sheila on the floor, and sometimes Daler Mehndi. It was so much fun. I punctuated my dance with ample whistling.

When they removed my blindfold, I was in an extreme corner of the room, in the direction opposite to where I had begun, facing the table with the divine objects, looking happy. Happy and very foolish.

The others were in their places, looking very disturbed.

As for me, I think I had, now, reached sublime happiness.

Then came the open-door meditation: we had to sit under a tree and meditate. The birds chirped sweetly, the occasional cricket pitched in, the March breeze rustled through the dry leaves. We focussed on our breath. Till, the ants started crawling up our legs.

The guru said, in his soft, comforting voice, ‘It is natural to feel an odd itching when you meditate : it’s just your imagination. If you just bear with it and it will go away in a few seconds.’

But, I was smarter than that. I had opened my eyes just that little bit to see they were actual ants. Not imaginary! Very very real, red and angry ants!

I spent the rest of the session brushing them away, trying to make as little noise as I did that.

The others were deep in trance, reaching sublime happiness. And, breaking out in red blotches all over.

The guru said, ‘Enter into an empty space…now…totally empty.’

Just then two ants entered his nose, probably saying, ‘Hmmmpff, empty, my foot!’

We also learnt slow walking. It was done on a patch of soft, green grass. We had to walk as slowly as we possibly could, looking at the ground in front of us, concentrating on each step. A woodpecker darted out of the tree, looking very startled, as we approached the tree from all directions, like sombre zombies, moving slowly with purposeful, stodgy steps.

I am sure, if he knew the numbers, he would have punched in the emergency line to the local mental asylum.

We took long walks as well. One day, we saw a carcass near the lake. Maybe a previous participant, I joked!

Guruji was not amused. He just walked ahead, swishing his pristine white robes, and whiter underwear that peeped through the robes, maybe sending a deep message,

‘Young India can make it happen!’

All in all, it was a wonderful experience.

It was also a realization that there is no hope for me: to slow me down, they’d need to do much more than that.

Maybe, chain me to that banyan tree, and scoop my skull empty.

In fact, I feel, they won’t mind doing that at all, after spending a painful weekend with me.

And as they do so, guruji will dance around me clutching that short stick, and other divine objects, finally reaching sublime happiness!