REMEMBERING AMALORANANDA: RETHINKING INCULTURATION
Daniel L. Driscoll
driscoll....@gmail.com
The following is excerpted from
a recently published book
presenting a biographical
profile of Fr. D.S.
Amalorpavadass ('Father
Amalor'). Other Chapters are by
such as Sister Mariella
Menezes, lifelong disciple of
Swami Amalorananda, Dr. A.S.
Dasan of the University of
Mysore, and Dr. S. John Bosco,
Amalor-trained Christian Laity
Leader in South India. The
book is available from Anjali
Ashram, Chamundi Hill Road,
Mysore 570011 em...@anjaliashram.org
Just over a year ago, I revisited a pretty little ashram in
South India and found myself sharing in the exercise known in
circles of Indian philosophical and religious culture as 'Sat
Sang', a structured but convivial group-discussion, most
often held with the ashram 'Guruji' presiding after the
midday or evening meal. I was not unfamiliar with this,
because several years earlier I had frequented the same
ashram community -- sometimes being a part of it for weeks at
a time. True, it had been more than a decade since I had last
been there, but some of those whom I had known in those
earlier times were again present to nod a greeting this time
around; but the most memorable and revered figure of that
earlier group was no more to be seen, for by this time he had
gone to his 'Maha Samadhi', or as we English-speakers might
say, 'to his Eternal Reward'.
I think I can say with confidence that for me this particular
individual stands out for me, after more than eighty years of
living, as my 'most unforgettable character'. And truly, the
challenge to write about him is not a simple one. He was one
of extraordinary talent and psychological complexity, who
during his short lifetime applied himself to an incredibly
wide range of endeavor, while remaining a self-effacing and
not widely-known figure. Since at this Sat Sangh event,
referred to in my opening line, I rather impulsively blurted
out that 'in my opinion there should be a book written about
him', I am now under some compulsion to elaborate on reasons
why I made that suggestion.
There were those, close to him in life and devoted to his
memory, who shared in my enthusiasm for a publication effort
-- and together we actually formulated a letter to engage the
interest of others -- but for quite a long time we were
unable to get on with it as expeditiously as we might have
hoped and expected. But now, as of mid-year 2010, I sit down
again at the keyboard to render grateful tribute to one who
was for me a wise counselor and a personal friend.
And, I now become more aware that an exposition of this kind
cannot make much sense unless it is placed 'within a context'
-- so I feel constrained to record something in the genre of
'true confessions', concerning my personal background and the
skein of life-circumstances which led me to this 'Ashram' in
South India, located near the foot of renowned Chamundi Hill
(at the summit of which there is to be found one of India's
most revered Hindu Temples, just outside the city of
Mysore.At this time of writing I have been for these many
years resident in India -- for as long as twenty-five years,
in fact.
If I may 'precis' my personal history, let me
introduce myself as Canadian-born of Irish Catholic
descent at the start of the 'Great Depression'
(1929) in a rural district of Canada's Atlantic
Region. My childhood was spent in idyllic fashion
-- barefoot boy with cheeks of tan, running and
playing with siblings over a large mixed farming
acreage, with scores of livestock and pets.
A strong Faith life was taken for granted in the family, each
day commencing with prayer following breakfast -- and of
course the evening rosary and Litany of Loretto, led by my
father. In between there was the inevitable routine of
morning and evening farm chores, catechism lessons presided
over by my mother wielding her 'yardstick', and of course
school -- for which I walked 'a country mile' to 'the little
white schoolhouse'.
With God's grace and herculean effort by the superbly
dedicated lady who became my teacher for the Intermediate
Grades, I qualified for acceptance in our small but
classically configured Diocesan Liberal Arts College (now a
large University) from which I obtained the Arts
Baccalaureate in the year 1950.
With my kind of upbringing a decision to study for
the priesthood may have been in the manner of
'self-fulfilling prophesy', but it was a wholly
free decision on my part. I think that I was fairly
genuinely a 'pious child'; my oft repeated prayer
was (and often enough still is -- old habits die
hard) the traditional Irish prayer of the small boy
child, "God bless me, and make me a good boy".
Upon university graduation I opted for entry to a prominent
Religious Order in Central Canada, where I did a Novitiate
Year followed by two years of Philosophy and four of
Theology. I was ordained priest in 1956, the period just
prior to the beginning of the Second Vatican Council.
My mission as an ordained priest was confined almost wholly
to the Senior Secondary School classroom, for which I
obtained Senior Secondary Teacher Certification from
University Faculties of Education in two Canadian Provinces.
In Canada 'Separate' (Catholic) Schools had, from pioneer
days, been a legislated component of the 'Public Education
system, but the ground reality was that the public treasury
fell short of funding beyond primary and intermediate grades.
Most Catholic families (including those of the
reasonably affluent middle class) felt that Higher
Secondary education would put too much strain on
family finances, so priests and other religious
(brothers and sisters) in impressive numbers were
assigned to heavy workloads in order to keep school
fees at the minimum and prevent Catholic
adolescents from deserting to public school
classrooms.
The workload was indeed quite arduous. To suggest that it was
'too demanding' may be somewhat by way of self-justification
and rationalization, but I submit that there may be an
element of plain truth in it. Suffice it to say that by the
time I was thirty-five years of age, after a decade of
teaching half dozen forty-minute 'periods' of English and
History per school day; supervising in the 'study-hall';
being 'Prefect of Discipline' for boarding students (24/7);
designing and chaperoning 'Youth Club Events' -- I was
becoming well-nigh 'a burnt out case'.
My situation in this regard was not entirely
unique. Hundreds of young priests and religious
Sisters and Brothers throughout most of the North
American continent during the 40's and 50's were
thus affected, and this era was followed by the
even more chaotic zeitgeist of the late sixties and
early seventies, subsequent to Vatican II. For a
host of reasons (not as yet well documented or
assessed by competent academic disciplines) the
number of men and women religious (world-wide)
during that period who began to reconsider value
structures inherent in their religious vocational
lives numbered in the several thousands.
This was especially true for young priests. Turbulent secular
undercurrents began to affect the priest's working milieu,
and the Vatican seemed paradoxically to almost reverse
traditional certainties and assumptions accepted from
childhood as 'inviolate'.
Concurrently, the same Roman Authority was banning such
scientific and religious opinions as those of French Jesuit
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin; this began to raise questions in
the minds of many younger priests and religious, not to
mention quite a few educated lay persons.
Gradually the difficulties worsened; many dedicated religious
had come to feel uncomfortable with premises concerning faith
and morality that they had previously taken wholly for
granted; the daily obligation of reading the thirty-five
minute long portion of 'the Divine Office' (obligatory under
'pain of mortal sin') led to it's often being a race against
the clock in the final minutes before midnight -- or on
occasion omitting it altogether. A decision made (by me
personally, but in consultation with my Religious Superiors)
saw me undertaking a Graduate Degree Program at an American
University, from which I was in receipt of a Masters Degree
in Communications (1967), and I returned to my Western Canada
(Edmonton) teaching assignment.
But by now nothing was the same; a 'mid-life' mental and
emotional crisis was by-product of the sojourn at a hugely
secular American University, where a Catholic priest's
defensiveness about clerical celibacy was greeted with
studied amusement; ultimately, in consultation with Religious
Superiors, I took 'Leave of Absence' and then petitioned Rome
for 'Canonical Dispensation', which was forthcoming in 1970
under the Pontificate of Pope Paul VI.
I 'resumed lay-status' and obtained employment with a
Canadian Federal Government Agency in the cultural
development sector. But it is fair to say that by this time I
was 'a broken man'. As things progressed my situation might
best be described by a line from the Bob Dylan song: "How
does it feel -- to be on your own -- with no direction home
-- like a rollin' stone."
Having joined government work at the more advanced
age of nearly forty years most of my working
colleagues were at least ten years my junior, and I
found myself cast in the mould of
'Mister-in-Between' -- too senior to feel
comfortable with the novel and unfamiliar, yet too
junior to remain unaffected by the youthful milieu.
Moreover, as a teacher I had interacted with
persons half my age on routine basis for most of my
professional life. I remained at heart a 'teacher'
and, I daresay, even to some degree 'a preacher',
sometimes to the amusement and of my young
colleagues in government public service.
I give credit my loving spouse for having, by a kind of
'Florence Nightingale Exercise' of concern and patience,
gradually brought me to a condition of physical health and
psychological normality.
I had met the person whom I eventually married through
introduction by my Indian secretary-stenographer at the
Federal Government Office where I assumed my new avatar as
Civil Servant. Both of the ladies in question were migrants
to Canada -- 'Indian Nationals, from Goan families' though
not born or brought up in Goa.
My receptionist secretary was young and not yet married,
while her compatriot lady friend had lost her British
journalist spouse (employed by a leading Canadian newspaper)
who had succumbed to a heart ailment after only five years of
their marriage. I became married to Germana -- in a church
marriage ceremony presided over by my heretofore Father
Provincial, and in the presence of former students and
colleagues in the religious community.
I then went on with my work as a Government Officer
(Education Liaison) in the Cultural Sector. As months and
years passed, it became increasingly evident that my dear
wife was not about to conform to the then fashionable ideal
of 'the New Canadian'.
She postponed surrendering her Indian passport for Canadian
Citizenship, and when we went out for country drives would
exclaim at every exceptional landscape vista: "Oh how
beautiful! Just like India!!"
During the decade of the seventies we toured India
as often as leave periods gave opportunity, where
soon after landing in 'Bombay' we would be off to
Goa aboard the overnight passenger ship that would
make the stupendous offshore stop at Ratnagiri
under a midnight moon. One of her prescriptions for
my full return to psychological health was 'to see
India' -- and that's how I came to be a
frequent-flyer in this direction. Finally, I began
to decipher 'the handwriting on the wall'; I
gradually came to realize that my spousal role was
rather akin to that suggested by one of our best
loved Irish Ballads: "I'll take you home again,
Kathleen; (To where your heart will feel no pain)."
After several visits to India, between 1972 and 1985, we
undertook to become permanent residents (in Goa) and have
never had reason to regret that decision. Even before
settling here we had been in the habit of staying (as 'paying
guests') with Bangalore people who had been friends of my
wife in former times, when all of them clubbed together as
teachers and working girls in fun and fashion loving
Calcutta.
By this time those friends of hers were settled in
Bangalore's Cooke Town precinct. One evening (late 70s or
early 80s), on an exercise walkabout, I came upon an
impressive array of buildings identified by an inscribed
stone signpost on Wheeler Road Extension that read simply
'NBCLC'.
I entered the gateway to find what resembled the
campus of a small College. On return from my walk I
inquired from my hosts (who were very conventional
Anglo Indian Catholics) about this intriguing
layout. They 'filled me in', spelling out its
acronym -- National Biblical Catechetical and
Liturgical Centre. They seemed rather vaguely
familiar with the place and admitted to sometimes
going there for 'a special Mass', which they
described as being 'of the Indian Rite'. I had
heard of many 'Rites' in my time, but this was a
new one on me. I gathered too, from some comments
and asides, that there were varying opinions
prevailing (pro and con) about this 'NBCLC' and its
erstwhile 'Founder/Director', some hinting at
accusations about 'that Father Amalor' -- who had
even incorporated 'non-Catholic' artistic designs
in chapel window grills!
Next day I strolled over to NBCLC again, for purpose of
hunting up a reception desk. A kindly sister-receptionist
listened to me for a couple of minutes, and then made
notation on a slip of paper. Handing the slip of paper to me
she advised, pleasantly: "You had best go and talk to this
person -- but you will not any longer find him here; he will
be at the location I am here indicating to you -- in Mysore".
For a Canadian the Tamilian name that she mentioned and wrote
down (Fr. D.S. Amalorpavadass) was difficult to take in at a
single glance, and it didn't help much when I asked that she
spell it out. However, a couple of days later I boarded the
commuter coach to Mysore; found the city bus number for
Chamundi Hill Road, and requested the conductor to let me off
at 'Anjali Ashram'.
I was shown into a tiny waiting room, where quite some
minutes ticked by before the door gently opened to admit a
tall and rather slightly gaunt figure -- with neatly
combed-back black hair shining with the suggestion of coconut
oil; he wore a white cassock with a saffron-tinted shawl
covering his shoulders. With a Namaste greeting he seated
himself -- not on a chair, but on a square floor mat in the
corner-niche directly facing me.
I introduced myself and pieced out my story as best I could.
It had been quite some time since I had spoken with anyone in
a counseling mode, but I began to feel in this case that I
was 'getting through', to one who seemed to be at very least
'a good listener'. If I can recall with sufficient clarity,
his rejoinder was to speak for several minutes about 'the
Beatitudes', with the corollary comment that 'Christian duty
bids us think more about the needs of our neighbor than about
rigid adherence to established credos and maintaining the
stance of a moral higher ground'.
He concluded by placing his palm on my head and spontaneously
invoking a beautifully phrased blessing. He then bade me the
courteous (and curt) 'Adieu', of a person busy with many
things, and assured me that I would be welcome if ever I were
to come for a more lengthy sojourn.
For the first time in a very long while I knew that I had
experienced a genuine pastoral concern tempered by patience
and kindness, addressing my delicately personal spiritual
quandary. I returned to Bangalore with the firm intention of
making another visit to Anjali Ashram, this time with
prearrangement for a stay of some days.
My eighty-year-old memory does not serve me well, as regards
precise dates and times. I can only record that in the period
between 1984 and '89 I paid many visits to Anjali Ashram,
sometimes in company of my wife (who also became an admiring
friend of Fr. Amalor) and sometimes solo.
On one of the visits I remained at 'Anjali' (in a 'hermitage
cottage' bearing the name-post 'Sangeet') for a period of
some five or six weeks. I had the immense privilege of
attending both of the Ashram's extended retreat programs the
'Upadesa' and 'Anabhava', begging pardon for possible
imprecision of language.
Taking together the homily-allocutions at morning Mass and
forenoon discourses given daily by him in the outdoor
'mantap', not to mention his introductions for morning and
noontime 'dhyana' (deep meditation) I would have been an
attentive listener to Guruji's beautifully formulated
dissertations on at least a hundred occasions.
Never, it seemed, did he repeat himself; and always his words
were a source of inspiration. Much of his written work, to my
knowledge, has been of the compilation and editing variety,
for publication of papers given at seminars and conferences
held officially under aegis of the Indian Bishops'
Conference, but in program-series that I learn were largely
of his own design and composition.
His talent for extemporaneous verbal expression was, to say
the least, remarkable. He could speak for a full hour without
the aid of notes, and his command of the English language was
superb. If I mistake not his flawless delivery in the English
language could be nearly paralleled in French the language
employed for written dissertations in completion of academic
studies at the University of Paris -- perhaps not wholly
surprising, for he was a native of the former Indo/French
enclave of Pondicherry.
No doubt he had equal fluency in Tamil, which would be his
'mother tongue', and perhaps in one or two other Indian
languages as well -- a quite extraordinary linguistic
accomplishment! In addition to language capability he seemed
perfectly at home in each of a cluster of academic
disciplines -- philosophical, theological, literary,
sociological and psychological; he also showed keen concern
for ecology and the environment, frequently making references
worthy of one specialized in the field.
I learned from him the dignified chant of the
Gayatri Mantra, which he intoned at commencement of
meditation in an outdoor setting each morning at
first blush of dawn. I still chant it, often on
festive occasions at home and in company of
friends, and fancy that I render it rather well --
though of course in barefaced imitation of his
style. His delivery of the Gayatri was far superior
to what I hear blaring over the loudspeakers in my
neighborhood, at festival times throughout the year.
His demeanor in deep meditation ('dhyana') particularly when
he prayed aloud prostrate on the flagstone floor after the
morning arati (fire ritual) in the Ashram Chapel, was moving
to witness. Detractors might hint at a tendency towards
'paranoia' or 'self-pity', when in this mode of spontaneous
prayer he could plaintively lament obstacles and difficulties
put in his way -- by those 'who know not what they do' --
times when he would sometimes shed tears.
For me it was indication of a very sensitive and humane
disposition briefly departing from a usually calm exterior.
Contrariwise, he could come up with quite amusing asides in
general conferences and satsangh sessions. Towards the end of
the afternoon discourse in the Mantap, lengthening rays of an
evening sun would sometimes light up his already animated
face in a manner which the imaginative observer could sense
as 'ethereal'.
But Fr. Amalor was no 'hagiographer's dream subject'. My
feelings about him at close range could sometimes be
ambivalent -- toggling between respectful admiration and awe,
or sometimes even a bit of intimidation.
He was capable of very forthright putdowns -- during 'free'
and 'open 'discussion' at Sat Sangh, if there was deviation
from a stated agenda, or in respect to his invitation for
expresson reflecting one's mood or feeling 'as of this
moment'. I fancied myself to be of the 'liberal democrat
genre', and could at times feel resentful about what I
thought was 'single mindedness' or 'controlling'. Once, when
I may have been the one who instigated it, he called a
definitive halt with, "This is beginning to resemble an
intellectual discussion!"
But on further reflection I would have to concede that
Satsang was a pointedly directed exercise, designed to
facilitate a process for spiritual growth, and that its
configuration had been largely determined and defined by him
-- so in that context I was led to the conviction that his
manner was in no way dictatorial or domineering. It was
indeed 'our discussion', but he maintained his right to keep
things on track.
Nor could it be doubted that he had harsh critics among those
around him, some of whom might even be, 'Brutus fashion',
cast in roles of professional collegiality.
Most of us are familiar with the kind of calumny and
backbiting that can go on in professional circles and in
'academe', and have witnessed in our own working lives how
implacable can be certain forms of peer animosity -- even if
proceeding from legitimate personal convictions. Whether or
not detractors had just cause to find character flaws, I'm
not well enough informed to judge. I felt that he was very
much a human, down-to earth person who emphasized virtues of
'wholeness' as the foundation for 'holiness', consistent with
the philosophic principle "grace builds on nature, not nature
on grace" -- and can there be any human being without
failings and foibles? Should not the intrinsic worth of an
individual, derive from precision of logic and judgment, and
purity of Intention?
While Amalorananda did have a very dynamic ('one pointed')
kind of drive to see 'his vision' take on materiality at
ground level, with perhaps overly sanguine expectations about
the degree to which some of them could be turned into
'concrete structural form, it is my firm conviction that Fr.
Amalorpavadass was never personally ambitious.
In my judgment he was an extraordinarily gifted individual
with a greatly heightened sense of mission, and this type of
individual can gain a reputation of 'not suffering fools
gladly'. I will grant that he could have been inflexible and
impatient at times -- but personally motivated, narrow-minded
or arrogant, I think he was most decidedly not.
While on the issue of 'complexity', I feel that there are
some few issues surrounding the person and work of
Amalorananda which could do with some further clarification,
in the interests of ecclesial transparency concerning Vatican
Policy and Hierarchical Administration. This may have been
one of the things in the back of my mind when I first
broached the notion of a book about him.
My notion was not so much concerned with his
individual persona as with the vitality of his
leadership role in the post Vatican II phase of
Christian life in India -- and in the culturally
variegated South India especially. One point that
might merit some expository comment relates to the
fact that Fr. Amalor was very closely linked to a
Cardinal holding high office in a Congregation of
the Roman Curia, namely Duraisamy Simon Lourdusamy
who happened to be his sibling brother.
Cardinal Lourdusamy was Prefect of the Congregation for the
Oriental Churches in the Roman Curia, and elevated to the
rank of Cardinal in 1985. That said, I might recall my
surprise when once doing a 'Goggle search' to come upon a web
page for NBCLC, wherein the 'about us' button yielded no
reference whatsoever to circumstances under which the
Institution was established, or to crucial role played by
Rev. D.S. Amalorpavadass in its establishment.
To my way of thinking, and based on discussions I have had
with acquaintances who were firsthand observers at the time,
it was Fr. Amalorpavadass (in the role of Program Secretary
to the Conference of Indian Bishops) who was largely
instrumental in the very conception and execution of the
whole NBCLC Project. I find it discouraging that within the
short space of twenty-five years a legacy such as this can be
subject to such revisionist treatment.
Doubtless the most significant and foundational
aspect of the 'legacy' relates to his efforts on
behalf of what has come to be known as 'The
Inculturation Movement'.
Without going into lengthy detail let me say that while not
fully informed about the Indian perspective relating to the
topic, I soon became (at least in principle) an unquestioning
admirer and supporter of the Inculturation philosophy.
In more recent times, and mostly as result of his
inspiration, I have read works by (and about)
Roberto de Nobili, Bramabandhab Upadhyay, Abbe
Jules Monchanin, Henri Le Sauz and Bede Griffiths,
which suggest that the movement for an integration
of Christianity with the defining religious culture
of India has historical roots linked with towering
personalities -- whose ideals have been brought to
a level of institutional maturity in our own time
by none other than Amalorpavadass.
Moreover, I am convinced that in a global and evolutionary
perspective, intercommunication between all of the major
religious cultures should be advanced practically on a 'war
footing', if Humanity itself is to survive.
An Anjali Ashram reprint of Swami Amalorananda's address to
the 12th International Congress of Liturgical Societies
(York, England-1989), under title Theological Reflections on
Inculturation, is more than sufficient to convince me that he
was not only correct in his intuitions regarding the
interpenetration of religious cultures, but that he was also
a supremely convincing spokesman on its behalf.
In the kind of'Teilhardian synthesis', to which I subscribe,
all of the major faith systems will become naturally
differentiated and 'fully realized' by finding their place in
an evolving 'faith dimension', incorporating all of religious
cultural histories in a process even now in process of
formation -- animist beliefs, Hinduism, 'Peoples of the Book'
(Zarathustra/Abraham/Mohamed), and Christianity altogether
constituting roots, trunk/branches and leaves/blossoms of the
religious cultural Tree, wherein (the 'whole' represents the
'evolutionary' change of state, and becomes more than the
mere sum of its parts).
It is a source of continual dismay to me that
intelligent and sober-minded Catholic individuals
can embrace a 'conventional wisdom' in which
Inculturation is judged to be 'divisive',
'communal', or (even more nonsensical) in danger of
'Hinduizing Christianity'!
In my 'little black book', of addresses and contact
information, I placed a tiny cross after the entry for Anjali
Ashram/Rev. D.S. Amalorpavadass -- with marginal notation
'25-5-90', the Date on which Fr. Amalor's earthly life ended,
in a tragic road accident as he was driving to Bangalore for
his appointment of that day.
Those of a 'Jungian persuasion' might regard my experience
that morning as an example of 'synchronicity' -- where
seemingly unrelated incidents concur in a manner that defies
rational explanation. That same morning, my wife and I were
journeying by bus from Goa to Bangalore. Just before dawn,
and at a point within an hour or so driving from Bangalore
City itself, there was a vehicular collision in which our
passenger coach suffered a totally smashed windshield, but no
other damage and no casualties.
Passengers were soon transferred to another coach, and the
journey terminated on schedule with arrival in Bangalore --
still in early morning. When we reached the home of our host
friends I very soon betook myself to the bedroom reserved for
us, with intention of making up for lost sleep. A short time
after, upon delivery of the morning paper, my wife gently
broke devastating news, that our dear friend and counselor
Father Amalor (whom we fully intended to visit in his Anjali
Ashram within a few days) had been killed in an automobile
accident that same morning -- possibly within the same hour
that we had experienced our road accident.
That evening we all attended the sorrowful first-phase of his
obsequies, held in the assembly concourse of NBCLC itself.
Viewing his mortal remains one could see that there had been
appalling physical trauma beyond a doubt, but nature itself
has its own miraculous reflexes for dealing with shock, so we
console ourselves that even at the moment of death he was, as
always during his life, at Peace.
I was unable to attend at the burial service, but 'knelt to
say my 'Ave there for him' at his grave-site some weeks
later. I was rather quite surprised when I learned that the
burial vault for his mortal remains, located dead centre
under the floor of the spacious Ashram Mandir, was at time of
his death found to be already in place.
Certain of those who had firsthand knowledge of the
construction phase for the Mandir, explain that the
underground chamber was originally implemented as a
water-storage tank for building purposes; and that when this
function had been fulfilled the flexibly-minded Swami saw
potential for it serving as his own humble mausoleum.
Be that as it may, Destiny seems to have further decreed that
after the manner of such venerable 'Rishis' as Maharshi and
Aurobindo, Amalorananda remains physically present at the
centre of his chosen space, still available to his loving
disciples.
After first visiting his tomb in late 1990, I must
confess that I remained absent from Mysore for more
than a decade, before venturing there again.
Somehow I felt that Anjali Ashram, without Father
Amalor, could not be the same. But when I did
finally return I was wonderfully encouraged to meet
loyal and devoted successors, faithful to his
spirit and carrying on the practical management of
the Ashram.
I was warmly greeted by Fr. A. Louis (Swami Gnanajyothy) and
Sr. Mariella Menezes, with their invitation to be present for
the Sat Sangh, referred to in my introductory paragraph. I
would hope that with passage of time his gravesite at Anjali
Ashram can continue to be at least a modest 'place of
pilgrimage' -- for people of all faiths, and particularly for
South Indian Christians.
Otherwise the accomplishments of this valiant person, who
lies buried in an obscure corner not frequented by so many,
could be forgotten by a future generation without benefit of
personal reminiscence, and come to represent little more than
a curious anomaly. Perhaps he was something of a Quixote,
'dreaming the Impossible Dream' -- but I am an ardent admirer
of Quixote, and indeed a great book was once written about
that great persona.
The Lives of the Saints contain countless examples of those
who have had imaginative and glittering hagiographic legends
spun around them. I have not envisaged this kind of
biographical treatment for Fr. Amalor, and I doubt if he
would be at all happy with us if we were to treat him in that
vein -- but some honest endeavor by competent persons to
document a significant epoch of recent history affecting the
South India region, and with Guruji Amalorananda as its
pivotal focus, would in my opinion be a most worthy project,
and am happy to find myself a part of what can be at least a
modest beginning for that process.
Regretfully, I am too far advanced in age to contemplate
authorship of a book myself, and would not likely have
qualified, even in terms of research expertise and writing
talent even if I were ten years younger; but I am confident
that 'in the fullness of time' there will be found persons in
the region, fully capable of addressing the research and
writing challenge.
As an alternative to book publication, or perhaps in
conjunction with it, some careful attention might be given by
Church administration and planning authorities to more
user-friendly applications for the 'Guruji Yatra' facility at
Anjali Ashram in Mysore, with a more commodious
'walk-through' design for accommodating visiting groups;
interactive applications of media technology such as audio
and video 'devices', to accommodate 'school field-trip
groups', etc., on a routinely structured basis.
Having been of a media orientation in my own professional
career, I discussed and may even have corresponded with Fr.
Amalor concerning aspects of media production that might
eventually be undertaken in the ingeniously designed Anjali
Ashram Complex. The facility is already capable of
lodge-accommodation for film and video Production crew and
personnel, and the Mantap and Mandir seem tailor-made
spatially, for film and video 'boom operations'.
India has urgent need of media materials promoting
the Inculturation theme, not only for domestic
audiences but for distribution to a global
viewer-market. In fact there might be enough by way
of commissioned work, artistic direction,
sound-stage rental, etc., to help maintain and
extend the Ashram complex, budget-wise.
I might even dare to visualize the Mandir doubling as an
ideal video-production studio. Our Guruji, at rest in his
Samadhi, should not be in the least disturbed. On the
contrary, I think that, resonating with the welcome sounds of
'work in progress' he might be quite delightfully pleased!
Peace, be upon him.
Betim, Bardez
Goa 403101 India
Initially written in 2006
Daniel Driscoll is a former public servant of the Canadian
Federal Government (National Film Board of Canada). He and
his wife (Germana Dinis) made their retirement home in Goa,
after his retirement from Government Service in 1984.
Subsequent to publication of this entry in the Anjali Ashram
Volume *An Indian Christian Guru: Portrait of Swami
Amalorananda*, Germana Driscoll entered her own samadhi -- on
18th March, 2011.
