L.A. Sadhu

By Kavendra Paruchuri

This is the fully revised and updated edition of Kavendra's first book, which was originally published in 2013. After graduating from a top university cum laude, Kavendra (aka. Kalidas) dropped out of mainstream society to live as a volunteer in spiritual communities in the Southwest for over 11 years. This book is about his reflections on his time in community as well as his time integrating into the urban landscape of Los Angeles. Unconventional in its approach, far from mainstream, L.A. Sadhu presents a unique look at alternative America through the eyes of an unusual blend of the spiritual roots of India and the realities of modern existence. Kavendra is also a musician and spiritual teacher/coach. Profits from his art will go to helping to create a mindfulness-based spiritual community. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kavendra Paruchuri
• Release date: Dec 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393355151

Kavendra Paruchuri

Kavendra is a writer, music creator, mindfulness teacher. His artistry is diverse and stems from his meditative background. He lived in the Southwest United States where he spent 11 years studying Eastern philosophy and volunteering in different Buddhist and Hindu spiritual communities. Kavendra is a graduate of Vanderbilt University as well as the New Mexico School of Natural Therapeutics. He is an LMT and is currently working on a Master's degree in counseling.

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Disclaimer:

This book is not intended to diagnose, treat or cure any disease. The reflections herein are based on the experience and philosophy of the author. The author is not a counselor or a doctor. If you need medical help or counseling, consult the appropriate health care provider. Alternative health providers like naturopaths and acupuncturists are also available if you choose to use them.

Warning

OBJECTS ON BOOK COVERS are not always as they seem. The author mentioned herein does not (up to this point in time) usually wear sunglasses. He went to Venice beach and searched for an hour or two to find the perfect shades to give the illusion of LA. Which do you prefer: the author or the illusion? Please forward your decision to the people in Washington.

Introduction

Seeking is the heart of spiritual life. It is something that all spiritual traditions share. Without this seeking, without this yearning, life is meaningless. The truth is that there is a way out. Seeking is not seeking something that one can never find. There is transcendence, and there are realms beyond death. We cannot access those realms until first we learn how to live. I present this work to inspire you on your path of learning how to live.

The majority of this book was written during my time in Los Angeles. LA offered a sharp contrast to the 11 years I had spent living in spiritual communities. While the Dharma centers taught me how to practice in a conducive environment, LA taught me how to try to see God even when people are not so nice or aware of the ramifications of their actions. It taught me patience, and it taught me to live in truth even if no one cares.

A sadhu (pronounced sah-dew) is a holy man in India who devotes himself to living life with little to no possessions and with a focus on God. I tried to pursue this ideal as much as possible during my time in communities. I avoided money, relationships, fame, and success. A number of those were easy for me to avoid because I did not want to have anything to do with them, namely money and fame, but women were a bit more challenging although I succeeded in avoiding them for the most part. I must confess I did not live up to the ideal of my masters. Nonetheless in Hinduism, what you want to be is not necessarily who you are in the moment but rather who you someday will grow into being. With that in mind, my apologies to the reader and of course to the Mother (the feminine form of God in the Hindu tradition embodying all-embracing compassion) for the many mistakes I made on my way to completing this work.

Since the concept of Mother is relatively new in the West, let me clarify. The people in India who worship God as Mother are not just being sentimental. The Mother, while She can sustain and nurture, can also destroy. We have all heard about the power of earthquakes and hurricanes if we have not experienced them directly. Hurricanes have the potential to destroy homes and businesses in a short amount of time. For those who follow the higher laws of the universe, the Mother will protect and nourish as well though. The Mother concept therefore is sweet but also dynamic, powerful and cutting if need be.

I consider Indian mysticism to be my roots. The spiritual traditions of India have helped me put into focus what I really believe and where I want to put my energy. These days a lot of younger generation of Indians are trying to imitate the Western lifestyle. While the West has brought good things to the world like electricity, it also has brought many vices. Hopefully God will set everything right in the end.

Writing this book furthermore has been an interesting process. As I finish one section, other memories, things I thought I had forgotten, came up. Thinking about some of those events was sometimes inspiring and sometimes painful and everything in between. I wanted to present as honestly and accurately as possible all of those memories. If there have been mistakes in my recollection, I am to blame, and I would like to offer you my apologies in advance.

Feel free to skip around and take a sip here or there. That is often the way I read books because I am more interested in knowledge than going in linear order and certain things inspire me more than others at different times. As you read, you may have a number of conflicting thoughts and perhaps resistance at times. Even if you do not agree with every word I say (how could you not?), I hope you laugh and think along the way. If you do, I will know that my job is complete. Enjoy the ride!

Mother India

It was curious that I ended up being born in India. My parents and my brother were living in the United States. For financial reasons, they left me to be raised by my grandmother and uncles in India. It was ideal in a way since I feel such a strong connection to the tradition of spiritual principles that shaped some of the greatest mystics in the world who happened to live in Mother India.

I do not have too many memories, but I do know that I was spoiled as a child and demanding. From what my relatives tell me, I guess I was somewhat of a bully and would treat other kids roughly and do all kinds of mean things. There was one child I used to pick up and throw in a ditch. They say I used to drag him around too. Why my relatives did not punish me more, I have no idea. Perhaps they thought it was a phase I was going through.

Although some memories seem significant, others seem random, not necessarily that important. For example, one day I was sitting outside and a crow came and stole my food. Do not know why I still remember that. Perhaps it was the first time I was forced to share. I was a typical selfish kid, so it was probably good for me.

An event that stands out as being especially memorable occurred when I was sitting outside of our straw house and a cobra appeared. While a cobra can be dangerous, generally snakes do not strike unless provoked. I was afraid though, so I told my uncles as the snake went into the house. They ended up killing the snake.

Little did I know that cobras in India are a symbol of the Kundalini (Kun-dah-lee-nee) or the dormant power of God that is hidden within each individual. They say if a cobra bites you in a dream that it is a sign that the Kundalini is awakening. Years later I did have a dream of being bitten by a cobra. I have had other signs that something was happening to me, something that I could not explain but that I knew, sooner or later, would have far reaching consequences.

Speaking of far reaching consequences, a person who would also have a long term impact on my life was my grandmother. I was raised in a small village by her for the first five years of my life. At the time I did not realize what a significant experience that was for me. As a child my grandmother was one of the closest embodiments of unconditional love that I have ever known.  She raised me without any desire for anything for herself. She probably spoiled me too since almost everyone else I met never measured up to that standard that she set.

There were people that were close to matching her love, but as I grew older and others grew older with me, I saw them change. They lived less and less from the heart and more from the brain. That childlike pure love disappeared and was replaced by the practical details of life and social conventions. No wonder adults do not smile much.

Though I hate to say it, my grandmother changed slightly as well. As I grew older, she became worried about my material standing. During my recent visit to India, she asked me why I wanted to see the temple of a great saint named Shiva Bala Yogi. She said it was more important that I find a job. Now I do not want to downplay the greatness of my grandmother. She is a very generous, openhearted woman, but the love of God is even greater than that. Divine love has no material attachments. While human love sees you in the context of your place in society, divine love sees you in the context of who you really are. God only looks into the heart while the rest of the world can only see the surface reality. It is the love that we all have but most of us lost along the Way.

So after five years of being surrounded by a loving family in India, I was put on an airplane to go to the West.  Before I got on the plane, my grandmother gave me a toy. She told me a story about a young man who loved his bike so much that when it got stuck in a river he went to get it but died in the current because he could not pull it out and would not let go. I loved my grandmother more than anything. To leave her was unbearable, but I did not have a choice. Somehow I knew everything was changing, and my life would never be the same.

After I came to America, I forgot how to speak my native tongue because no one spoke to me in that dialect and it seemed useless in the new environment I found myself in. A part of me tried to forget India and all the people I knew there since it seemed that that was the past. Now I had a new life in a new country.  As much as I tried to be a regular Westerner, something inside of me could never forget.

Younger Daze

Fumbling off

In dizzy motion

Crumbling down

On colored tiles

The glitz

The glamour

The end of the façade

As a child, I used to spray caterpillars with a hose from our garden. At the time, I thought that caterpillars were ugly. I would also flood the ants with water and even incinerated a few with a magnifying glass. It was a game to me. I did not realize that I was impacting the lives of other creatures with just as much a right to life as me. A part of the reason I did such things was because I thought I could and it seemed as though there would be no consequences.

When I matured into adolescence, life changed drastically. It was like a long dark storm came into my life. I was not happy with myself or the world. I did not feel accepted by society, so I hid myself away from the world. I spent a lot of time in my room watching TV, listening to music and doing homework. At the time, I was going to an all-boys prep school. It was one of the top schools in the state, and it should have been an easy path to success, but it was not.

It was funny because the motto of the school was not always accurate. Though the kids generally had more money, they were ordinary in many ways. They dreamed of girls, had chalkboard eraser fights, and all the other things kids do. There was probably more pressure on them to succeed from their parents, but the ideal for the school was not always the reality.

A humorous incident that illustrates this had to do with my friend of mine at the school. He was out of shape as a kid but was super smart. Imagine: a pale chubby white kid with rosy cheeks and glasses. Once we were playing intramural touch football, and someone threw the ball to him. He could not catch for the life of him, so the ball hit him in the neck. The next thing we know, he is flailing his legs on the ground with both hands on his neck, gasping, I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! The coach, who was one of the oldest teachers at the school, called off the game. As you can see, not everyone was an athlete.

Years later, another funny incident happened. We were at the volleyball court in the gym, and the judge was our Chemistry instructor. We were all a bunch of slackers in that group, basically all the guys who did not make any of the other school teams. They had to put us somewhere, so they put us in intramurals. One afternoon we were in the gym, and the kids were getting a little wild. They were hitting the ball at least a hundred feet into the air, hitting the rafters. The coach warned us not to continue acting up. One kid could not help himself, so when someone from the other side hit the ball over the net, he did a return with the top of his head. That kid was a misfit like me. He would often sit by me at lunch and eat five or six hamburgers. Those burgers