Author: David Ian Miller
Publication: San Francisco Chronicle
Date: April 18, 2005
URL: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=g/archive/2005/04/18/findrelig.DTL
Life was working out as planned
for Alka Patel, a 36-year-old assistant clinical professor of pediatrics
at the University of California, who had dreamed about becoming a doctor
since childhood.
Her family was thrilled when Patel,
who was born in England and lived in her parent's native India for two
years before moving to the Bay Area at the age of 7, returned to San Francisco
two years ago for her job at UCSF.
Then came a surprising announcement:
Patel was leaving it all behind -- her medical practice, her possessions,
everything. Next month she will move to Parmarth Niketan, an ashram on
the banks of the Ganges River in the Indian town of Rishikesh. She plans
to spend the rest of her life there.
The decision came as a shock to
family and friends. How could she give up a successful medical career to
become a religious disciple? And why so far away? Patel, who grew up in
a religious Hindu family, says it comes down to a matter of faith.
So what really prompted this decision
to leave your life and work behind in the States and move to an ashram
in India??
Well, before I started my job at
UCSF, I had a month to sort of play around. So I planned this four-week
trekking pilgrimage in the Himalayas with my sister. My father wasn't very
happy about it. He said, "You're just wasting money. Two young girls going
in the Himalayas by yourself. It's dangerous." But I didn't feel there
was any danger. I knew we were going to be fine.
On your trip you visited an ashram
in Rishikesh, the same one you're going to live in starting next month.
What happened there?
We attended a ceremony called Ganga
Aarti, which takes place around 6 p.m. on the banks of the holy river,
the Ganges. It's sort of like a spiritual party, a joyous and wonderful
time. You feel like everyone is this giant family coming together. Pujya
Swamiji, the spiritual head and president of the organization, leads the
Aarti. He has a wonderful, very peaceful voice. I just closed my eyes and
suddenly I felt a feeling of complete tranquility come over me. It was
like every lock that I'd ever had on my heart just came flying open. I
could literally feel them coming off, one by one. And tears came trickling
down my face. That night I did not sleep a wink. I felt like the river
kept calling me all night long. It was like this energy was flowing past
me and through me.
The river was calling you? What
do you mean?
I didn't hear any voices, and I
wasn't hallucinating. But I just felt like she kept calling me, like I
could feel her and hear her all night long. Finally, I got out of bed around
2 or 3 in the morning, and tried to go to the river. But the gates of the
ashram were locked. So I went back to the building where we were staying
and climbed on top of the roof and sat there and watched and meditated.
After prayers the next morning, we left the ashram and continued our trek
for a couple of days. But my sister had left some laundry at the ashram,
so we came back for it. And when we were there we had another meeting with
Pujya Swamiji.
What did you talk about?
We were just casually talking. At
one point I asked him something about my work. He reached out his hand,
and like an innocent child I grabbed it. He looked me right in the eye
and he said, "Just keep working, my dear, just keep working." It was just
a powerful force, you know. But it was so peaceful and serene that I wasn't
taken aback by it. I just looked him in the eye.
What happened next?
That night it was time for the Ganga
Aarti again. We were at the banks of the river. And I was sitting there,
and the tears just started rolling and rolling. There was just so much
peace and serenity and so much bliss. During that entire hour of the spiritual
singing and chanting, I was just mesmerized. I was there, but I wasn't
there. I was conscious, but I wasn't conscious. And then at the end of
the hour, Swamiji usually goes to the river to offer some flowers and some
prayers before he turns around and leaves to go back to the ashram. As
he was leaving, he caught my eye from afar, and it was like he was calling
me. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I knew that he was asking me to
go to where he was.
Did you follow him?
Yes, he has a garden where he meets
with people. I found him there, and I just sobbed and sobbed. As I was
sitting there, I couldn't utter a single word. I just kept crying. And
he kept telling me, "I know, my dear. I know, my dear. You don't have to
say anything." It was as though in those few moments every single one of
my desires that I'd ever wanted in life was met and melted at the same
time. It was like all of my desires were gratified, and then they just
went -- poof.
What do you think happened that
night?
I felt like the hand of God reached
out and touched me. That's the only way I can explain all of this -- I
just feel like I've been so blessed in so many ways. And my only prayer
at that time, I remember telling my sister and my aunt, was that I wished
to God every single soul on this planet could feel this unconditional love
and bliss that I felt right then. From that moment on, everything has become
very, very clear. And all I want to do is just serve people, you know,
serve God, and serve humanity.
So now you're going back to India
to live at the ashram. And you're giving away most of your possessions
as part of that transition. Has that been difficult?
Not really. I feel like it's a liberating
process, actually. I'm gaining so much that I don't feel like there is
really anything to give up.
Don't you care about material things
anymore?
I used to care about them a lot.
I lived in a fancy house in Florida, owned a fancy car, had fancy clothes.
I had shoes galore just like every other woman. My father is going to have
a garage sale just for the shoes [laughs]. I have no attachment to any
of that anymore. I'm giving it all away.
Even your BMW?
Yeah, I don't know who's going to
have it -- probably somebody in my family. It doesn't really matter to
me.
What about your medical practice?
You've worked so hard to get where you are -- all those years of school
and training. Now you've got a great job. How can you possibly give that
up?
During my residency, I started to
have lots of spiritual experiences, especially with my patients. I became
convinced that the more I learned [about Western medicine], the less I
knew about life. I kept learning and learning, and it just felt like I
knew nothing. And so, having spent this many years in school and having
achieved what I've achieved, it just doesn't feel like I'm giving up anything.
I feel like my real learning is about to begin.
How is your family handling your
decision? You're very close with them, aren't you?
Yeah, we are. I'd been away for
many years at medical school and residency. Then I worked at the University
of Florida for a while before I came out here. So it's not even been quite
two years since I've been back to the Bay Area. I think they feel like
they just got me back and now they're about to lose me again. And this
time I'm going even farther away. So they're having a hard time.
Is that difficult for you?
Well, I think they don't understand
what is really happening with me, and the support isn't there. Maybe I'm
not a parent, but I just don't get it. You have three other children --
what's the big deal? I'm just one person, you know?
How does your sister -- the one
who visited India with you -- feel about your decision?
My sister could have been my biggest
skeptic. She's younger than me by three years and would love to play the
protector role. But she was right there with me when I had all those experiences.
She said to me [when I told her I was returning to the ashram], "I knew
you were going to go back." She knows this is what I'm supposed to be doing,
even though to this day I think she's struggling with accepting it.
What are you going to be doing at
the ashram? Are you going to be studying, meditating or what?
Probably all of those things. I
don't know the details of what I'm doing, and how my learning is going
to take place. I don't know the structure, you know, of any of this.
Does that bother you?
Not really. When people ask me about
that -- "What do you mean, you don't know?" -- I just say it's irrelevant.
I want to do what I'm supposed to do, and I'm going to learn what I'm supposed
to learn, and that's that. All the questions will be answered in due time.
It's all based on faith.
Your plan is to spend the rest of
your life at the ashram. Does that mean you're giving up the idea of getting
married or having a family?
Yes.
Are you taking a vow of celibacy?
I would like to, eventually, yes.
But I think that process is very long and arduous. I'm probably going to
be tested in many, many ways. Actually, the moment I landed on U.S. soil
[after coming back from India], I was being tested.
Meaning you met someone?
No, I had already had a good friend
in my life who, when I got back, wanted to marry me.
What did you tell him?
That I couldn't marry him, because
my heart would always be with God.
Was that difficult?
Sure. I spent a good part of my
life thinking, "Why am I not married? Why don't I have that someone special
in my life?" So I'm no different from anyone else, you know? But I always
said I would never marry unless I found the real love that I was seeking,
and the real love that I was seeking is here -- it's from God. I couldn't
tell you the amount of tears I have shed since I've come [to my decision]
-- and they're not tears of sadness. They're tears of peace. I wanted to
be married, and I wanted to have children of my own. But now it's like
all the children of the world are my children.
When you talk about serving the
world, it seems to me like you're already doing that. You're helping babies
that are sick and you're teaching medical students. Why not just continue
doing what you're doing?
Because I feel that my learning
in this country is different from what I'm about to begin in India. I'll
always be a doctor. I don't think I could ever give that up. I'll always
want to heal people. But I want to be able to understand how to heal people
with their hearts and souls, not just their bodies.
Are you at all afraid about giving
up your medical practice and making this huge change in your life? Isn't
there anything you're worried about?
I'm making this decision because
I want to provide myself as a service to people, and I feel like, "Hmm,
am I going to be able to help people, really? Who do I think I am? What
am I going to do?" I don't know if that's fear, but it's how I think sometimes.
The mystery of all of this is that I feel like a brand-new baby, like I'm
learning how to walk, you know? I feel like I've just been born. And my
life is about to begin.
During his far-flung career in journalism,
Bay Area writer and editor David Ian Miller has worked as a city hall reporter,
personal finance writer, cable television executive and managing editor
of a technology news site. His writing credits include Salon.com, Wired
News and The New York Observer.
