As a teenage woman growing up in liberal London in the 90s, and as an avid watcher of the hit TV shows of that era like Sex and the City and Friends, I was able to observe many types of male-female relationships. As my eyes were opened, my cultural narrative of gender stereotypes, which came from being the daughter of an Indian household, was blown to smithereens.
When I embarked on the journey of life outside of the home I’d grown up in (if you’ve read my series Confessions of a Merry Monk, you will know that I moved out of my parents’ home at sixteen), I decided that I was going to be independent. I was going to live life on my own terms.
But now I think back, I realise that I never really was independent. I was still tethered to my basic conditioning; that I needed a man in my life to complete me. One to rely on. One to make me feel safe and protected, to be my stability and security, whether that be a father, a brother, a spouse or any other prominent male authority figure in my life. It’s funny, the thought never crossed my mind that I could go it alone, that I didn’t need a man to do anything for me.
Most of the men I encountered (except for the rare few gems) I allowed to objectify me. I let them make me believe I was incapable and worthless. The man played the role of my saviour whom I worshipped. All went well only if I conformed, if I didn’t voice an opinion or stand up for myself. Perhaps I was at fault for putting them on a pedestal. Being completely open-hearted and vulnerable, I showered them with love, gratitude and praise. I guess it was only natural then for them to not see me as an equal, but feel superior to me and preach to me. And some not just to me, but to other women too.
A bachelor, who has his cooking and cleaning needs taken care of, has no idea of the vast responsibility and limited time available for a working woman with children, or an unwell or elderly relative to take care of, for example. He doesn’t need to grocery shop and rustle up three meals a day, or draw up next week’s kids’ activity schedule, remember which bins to roll out on which days or deal with the mountain of laundry in the basket, let alone the individual physical and emotional wants and needs of the family members.
I saw, in most Indian households, the men treated the women like servants. Rarely a please or a thank you. If they needed a spoon, for example, instead of getting up and reaching over to the cutlery drawer themselves, or even asking politely, I have seen some men not even look up from their meal and say, “Give me a spoon.” No please or thank you. And the woman, who is already tending to a hundred things in her mind, plus rolling and cooking fresh chapattis for them, acquiesces without a second thought.
If that person did the same for her regularly, or even occasionally, I’d get it. If he cooked sometimes too, or helped to clean up afterwards, okay fine. But could he at least remember that a please and thank you never go to waste? Could he at least pick up his plate from the table once in a while?
Why is it the norm for so many men to be waited on hand and foot. And that too, by women who have jobs, who work all day, and take care of a house and other people dependent on them.
You’d think that washing my face of all the makeup, wearing plain white clothes and shaving my head might mean I have announced my independence to the world, and the way I would be treated by men would completely change? That I wouldn’t be objectified, shackled or preached at anymore by men, least of all men on the spiritual path? Guess again.
I have to make it very clear here, I am talking about the type of man who is nothing like my guru, Om Swami ji. Swami ji has never commented about my appearance, has never made me feel objectified. He has never tried to clip my wings. In fact, he gave me a new pair where I had lost mine. Swami ji has never once preached to me how I should live my life. I have never heard Him gossip, belittle, or force an opinion on anyone. That is simply not His way. Swami ji works quietly and lets the results show for themselves. When women pay obeisance to Him, He gives a quiet blessing and looks away. He leads by the shining example of His exemplary conduct, humility, and respect towards women.
The type of men I am talking about are still on the path. I know they revere Swami ji and are trying to reach His impeccable standards. It is not easy. As men and women on the spiritual path, we have only our interactions with each other to test ourselves and grow from.
Not long after my initiation in 2018, one morning, I was cleaning the communal sinks outside the ashram dining room, wearing a white saree, when a male devotee wished me a good morning and asked how I was doing.
I enthusiastically replied, “I’m great, wonderful, amazing.” I was in a very good mood thinking of Swami ji’s grace and how my life was turning around.
The devotee, while washing his hands at the sink smirked and said, “And sexy.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Because I knew this middle-aged man to be a respectable, long-time devotee who had a position of authority in one of our organisations, I didn’t have the courage then to put him in his place and tell him what he said was inappropriate. Instead, I nervously laughed it off, looked up to the sky and said out loud. “Swami ji, I hope you heard that.”
I stopped wearing sarees after that day.
Had it only been that one incident, I would have let it go. I always give someone the benefit of the doubt until they prove otherwise.
The same man had, some time earlier, put his hands on my shoulders from behind. I was kneeling or crouched on the temple floor cleaning something when he did this. No one else was around. Perhaps he meant it in a friendly way, but, for me, it was a jarring experience. I had been living alone and immersed in spiritual practices for a long while by then. I had not been touched by anyone for years. Not even a hug or a handshake. I greeted others with a hands folded Namaste. When he put his hands on me, I felt uncomfortable but I knew he didn’t realise this. I shrugged it off and didn’t say anything.
But then, after the sexy comment, I observed that I wasn’t the only one who was being made to feel uncomfortable. Other women spoke to me about their interactions with him too, but nobody wanted to say anything directly to him or report him. The same person was also asserting his authority over others in general in a way that was shocking to me.
I spent months in turmoil. I would cry in my room every day. How could this happen here? This is an ashram. This is the last place on earth where women should be made to feel objectified, in God’s own Home.
I’d been physically assaulted and sexually abused and harassed in the UK and when I lived in Mumbai (I’ll write about what happened in Mumbai in my Confessions series), and I still didn’t shed as many tears over all that as I did over this. I had allowed this man’s comment to derail me completely.
When I could take it no more, I reached out to my guru. I only said what happened to me, not to any of the other women as it wasn’t my place to and they had asked me not to. At once, Swami ji put me at ease. I didn’t even have to give Him the man’s name, Swami ji knows everything. He swiftly took care of the situation.
Did it end there though? It did not.
Such is the ego that when it gets a telling-off, it can either take it as a lesson and become humble or it can rear its head like a cobra.
After being pulled up for his behaviour and given a warning, that person took every opportunity to target me.
He tried to force me to stop taking care of and feeding the dogs at the ashram. He even sent a group email out calling me an offender for not following the rules about the dogs. I wasn’t even there when the new rules were put in place as I usually travel out of the ashram for a few months every year.
Teju, one of the dogs, was my best friend when I first arrived at the ashram in 2015. We were always around each other whenever I was there. If he was hungry, hurt or unwell, I would take care of him. Whenever I left for my travels, Teju always saw me off right to the car door, and upon my return, he would come bounding to the car from wherever he was to welcome me.
I was forced to not feed him or let him near my home. Nobody else seemed to be given warnings for the dogs. Only me.
The man got me kicked out of my service to the cows too, claiming it wasn’t safe for me to be with cows. This made no sense. Again, everyone else could go near them, only I was banned.
I tried to fight back in the first meeting about this. I begged them not to separate me from the cows. The cows were the source of so much love and joy for me.
I tried to tell another person in authority (another male unfortunately) that this was backlash for something. I tried to tell him that other women had also been made to feel uncomfortable by that man. I was asked for names but of course I wouldn’t give them as I couldn’t break the trust of the women who had asked me not to. There were three people in that meeting aside from me and that man. Two men and one woman. None of them believed me. I was shut down, kicked out of my service to the cows and made to feel like an angry, rebellious woman for no reason.
Almost a year later, I decided not to be afraid anymore and went back to work in the cow shed of my own accord.
If I tried to tell anyone about all this, I was made out to be a troublemaker. That man said all sorts about me. I felt I shouldn’t run to Swami ji to fix everything for me. But even if I had wanted to, they made it more and more difficult for me to get my message to Him. I had to learn to deal with this myself.
When a fellow devotee asked if I would help her tutor the local children for their upcoming exams, I jumped at the chance help out. But you can guess how that ended.
I did not however allow him to extinguish my spirit of service completely.
Nobody stopped me from continuing with my litter picking of the ashram grounds. Perhaps the man felt that this kind of service was befitting of me. I was happy though, at least I could do that. I loved it. I loved seeing Mother Divine’s Home free of litter and garbage. I would it do with the utmost mindfulness, either in silence and mentally chanting my mantra or with headphones on listening to devotional songs and singing and dancing along with them.
The last nail in the coffin though was that he made complaints about me singing kirtan and bhajans in the temple. In the end, I was banned from doing it at all.
Once, in a discourse, Swami ji had said that His only vision at the time of building the temple was that someone would play the dholak and someone would play the manjeera while singing devotional songs to God. I already played the manjeera and I loved singing so I bought a dholak and began to learn to play.
Two devotees – a professional singer and musician and a young lady with a lovely voice – and I decided to meet in the temple everyday from 3:30pm to 4:30pm when the temple was usually empty to practice music and singing. We learned devotional songs and we became quite good.
Once in a while, a visiting devotee would be present in the temple and would join in. They were also encouraged to sing if they wished to and dance along during the kirtans. Mostly though it was just us three in the temple.
Closer to the event days there were more visiting devotees at the ashram and they began to look forward to our daily bhajan and kirtan sessions. We didn’t mean it to, but it became a thing. When the temple was full of people, we had wonderful, joyful sessions of everyone singing the Lord’s names and dancing together in divine ecstasy. There were tears, smiles and bliss. I was so happy we could fulfill a wish for Swami ji. He does so much for us. I hoped we were making Him proud, singing for God and spreading so much joy to others. I would be on a spiritual high all day afterwards.
But of course, it caught the attention of that man.
And of course he did what he could to shut it down.
One day, in the middle of our singing to God, he took the microphone away from the lady singing with me and we had to end it.
Then the meetings started.
In these meetings, I was told that I was acting like someone higher than my stature, that I had no right to encourage a group of people to sing for God. I was told that if I wanted to sing, I could go down to the river and sing… alone.
Nobody else was banned from singing or playing instruments in the temple. They were free to continue.
Most of the conflict was during the Covid lockdowns so I couldn’t escape it. And over the years, I was reprimanded for all kinds of things, too many things to write here. Even my practice of maintaining silence was condemned and ridiculed.
Once, somebody had an accident and suffered an awful injury, I ran to this man for help as he was the nearest person. My thinking was that we would put any personal issues aside to help someone in an emergency. He refused to help me. He was drinking his tea.
I would assume other devotees were told all sorts of things about me because the way they treated me changed too. I noticed how distant some of them became. Some stopped interacting with me altogether. It was only recently that one of them told me some of the things that had been said about me.
In one of the meetings, my writing was attacked and I was told that the bad things that happened to me in my life were my own fault. I was told that if I didn’t comply with their orders that I could be stripped of my discipleship. I didn’t get angry, I simply said, that’s fine. Because, 1) Only Swami ji has the power to do that. And if I am not worthy of Him, He will do that, and I will respect His decision. And 2) Because I understood that the people in the meeting saying these things to me had been told a lot of negative things about me over the years by that man, and they, no doubt, believed him. I didn’t blame them for that. They thought they were doing what’s best for the ashram. I understood that. There was nothing I could say that would make them think otherwise.
The man never apologised for putting his hands on me, for calling me sexy, or for all the backlash. I’ve learned to never expect an apology from anyone. Whenever our paths crossed, he would either avoid eye contact or simply scowl at me. No matter how hard I tried to remain upbeat and professional (if you remember, I was also dealing with this and this at the same time), no matter how many times I forgave him in my heart and greeted him civilly, I was ignored or snubbed.
I feel sorry for him more than anything. The weight of holding on to that big of a grudge must be an awful feeling. I pray he can move on for his own sake. If he reached out to me, even now, with genuine remorse, I’d put it behind us in an instant. Life is too short for such petty drama.
As hard as it was, this experience has been my greatest gift. The most beautiful gift of strength that God could have given me. You see, my source is Ma Kali.
The Divine Mother, Ma Kali’s Love runs through every pore of my being. I have given my life to Her. As Swami ji has taught us, She is the Empress, independent of anyone else. She is compassion incarnate, but also the fiercest. Her fierceness showed me I had to stop being a victim. Ego isn’t only false pride and arrogance, I learned, it’s also that little voice of fear and the feeling of being victimised. Ma gives me the strength to keep my intentions pure but be absolutely fearless in the face of conflict and injustice now.
I wasted so much of my life allowing a man’s false authority over me to run amok in my mind. Life could have been so much sweeter had I learned to stand up for myself before it was too late.
I’m thankful that I have Swami ji in my corner, but I realise now, all these years, He was showing me how to muster up my own fighting spirit, teaching me how to fight these battles myself.
Monk or not, I am still a woman. And this world does not run in a woman’s favour.
I will probably be judged, mocked, ridiculed and objectified on a daily basis. If we know each other, and if you say or do something inappropriate, I will no longer be silent about it.
Please understand that what I eat, what I do and what I look like is no one else’s concern. I offer every thought and every breath to my guru, Om Swami ji and the Goddess (who to me are one and the same). If it’s good enough for Them, no one can take that away from me.
Not that I must justify myself, but I want to show you a glimpse of how I live my life:
I cook and clean up after myself. The meals I cook at home are healthy, so if I eat out I like to treat myself. I am 43, 5’6″, weigh less than 60 kilos, and have no underlying health conditions. I do yoga, I swim, I meditate, I chant, I dance, I sing. I’m learning to play musical instruments and speak new languages. I bare my heart and soul, writing my truth here to help others. I make a very modest living writing. I try to be kind and mindful every waking moment; I spend time supporting others who need help, mostly women, and families who are caring for serious mental health patients (with Swamiji’s Grace, some of them are doing really well now). I don’t have any bad habits except Netflixing out from time to time. I have overcome my past of extreme trauma, abuse, addiction and the grief of losing my children. I’m calmer than ever, I’m happier than ever. My life is no longer about me. I have finally reached a stage on the spiritual path where I can stay connected to the source and help others. When I meet with people, I listen. My mindset is, “What can I learn from you?” and “How can we make this moment more beautiful and connect deeper to The Divine.”
You can judge for yourself whether I need to be preached at. Heck, does anyone need to be preached at?
I have learned this world is full of people, even spiritual people, who will poke and prod you and then explode at you the moment you stand up for yourself. I’m prepared for the backlash now. It’s expected even. It will never derail me again. I only wish those people well and pray these experiences take them closer to the Divine in the end. Perhaps I have to be the medium for their growth just as they are the medium for mine. Neither role is easy but we can only be tested and grow when we are put in such situations.
As Swami ji says, an orange may look sweet from the outside, but it’s only when it’s squeezed that we know if it’s sweet or rancid on the inside. Unless we have people in our way to challenge us, how will we be squeezed? How will we know? Some go fizzy in a tizzy at the first squeeze and never recover. Some eat humble pie and wisely come back and continue to walk the path until the only juice to come out is as sweet as divine nectar.
I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been squeezed – countless – but I can tell you that each time it happens, I learn and grow a bit more.
We, women, can be humble and serve this world with a loving heart, but no man has the right to bully or objectify us.
I have every right to look you in the eye and say Stop.
Thank you to the men who have given me these tough lessons. Under Swami ji’s diligent watch, I have emerged stronger than ever. I finally understand what it means to be independent. I have learned that male-female relationships and interactions can be loving, respectful and kind given the right approach. Your father, brother, partner, spouse or best friend can be the best part of your life, but your self-respect and self-worth come from within you alone.
Oh, by the way, I’ve started wearing a saree again. I wear it with pride now. It is a symbol of my Indian identity, femininity and strength. I am proud to be a British-Indian woman, a monk and a disciple of the most truthful, respectful, kind, humble and powerful Om Swami ji.
Although this may not be my most humble post, I pray Swami ji keeps me on the path of truth, respect, kindness, humility and strength. I pray I continue to grow.
May we all.
With His Grace,
Sushree Diya
🧡
*Please may I ask that you be mindful in the comments. I appreciate your support and sentiment, but any inappropriate expression toward those mentioned in this post will be deleted. Thank you.*
**EDIT**
As of November 23rd, 2024, that man is no longer in a position of power at the ashram. I would assume he was given time and a chance to improve his behaviour but wasn’t able to. I wish him well on his spiritual journey and pray that he can see the same Mother Divine in all women and respect them accordingly.
My humble obeisance of gratitude at my guru Om Swami ji’s feet. Thank You, Swami ji for stepping up and never letting us down. I know if I remain, humble, patient and steadfast on my path of Sadhana, goodness will prevail. Thank You for all the wisdom and strength I have gained through these experiences 🙏🏼🙇🏻‍♀️