A few years ago, I had the good fortune of spending a few precious weeks in the holy town of Rishikesh. The beautiful energy of the Himalayan mountains enveloping this sacred valley nourished by the presence of the divine mother Ganga flowing through its center is just one of the many blessings one receives when living there. Amongst the lesser-known blessing was my encounter with the famously boisterous monkeys that display a strong presence in the region.
On my first day in Rishikesh, I couldn’t help but be amused as I watched them jump, play and groom themselves in social groups. They reminded me of the little playful child that wanted just to jump and express without care. I could watch them for hours if I could. Initially, that’s precisely what I did. One day, as I prepared to step outside, I was startled to see the objects of my observation, the monkeys waiting for me. Little did I know that monkeys hate being watched and keep a score. The moment I stepped outside, they sought revenge. I learned my lesson the hard way. All the rest of my stay was spent in caution and fear of being attacked by these otherwise fun and playful creatures. They can show you their mean side. My friend jokingly named them “little mafia.”
One morning while we all gathered in our yoga hall that overlooked the serene Mother Ganga for our morning prayers, we had an innocent visitor. A dog had entered in and sat beside one of us. We didn’t mind his company. He looked too cozy to be disturbed. However, this drew the attention of the little mafia outside, which now wanted entry. But to their dismay, we quickly sealed all the doors and windows. Surrounding the hall outside the windows, they watched aggressively, filled with jealousy as we continued our morning rituals. As we finished our prayers, we noticed that the monkeys had dispersed, and the dog was now ready to move outside.
The moment the dog stepped outside, angry monkeys surrounded him. At first, he growled and stood ground but soon cowered, finding himself outnumbered. What followed next was a graphic and gruesome attack on the poor dog. I could never shake that memory out of my mind.
I then began to fear them even more. The more I feared the little mafia, the more I found myself in close encounters with them. It was as though they could smell my fear from far away.
Then one day, I watched Mary, a soft-spoken and calm French native, walk right through a circle of monkeys gathered outside her room. Neither she nor the monkeys were intimidated by each other’s presence. I learned a beautiful lesson that day. Nature projects what’s inside of us. Mary was never a threat to them. They felt calm and safe around her. But my fears posed a threat. Not just to me but those around me as well.
Ain’t we humans just like these monkeys. We hate being observed, and we always keep a score when judged. And when someone is allowed a particular privilege, we knowingly or unknowingly attack that person with words or behavior. Isn’t that what trolling is all about these days?.
Our outer reality is a projection of our inner reality. It reflects a part of us; we are afraid to reveal. And the monkeys did just that for me. They showed me my fears. They taught me what greed and jealousy look like. They also showed me that it’s amusing to be a fun and carefree child, even when observing. Most importantly, they allowed me to peer deep within me to find my calm center. That center not only kept me peaceful and safe but allowed me to share it with those around me.
Nothing is truly an accident, punishment, or mistake. Everything serves a purpose. To experience life at that moment. If we observe close enough, these encounters teach us something. If we allow ourselves to listen and watch beyond the veil of our egos and ignorance, anyone can become our teacher or guru, even a monkey.