MPA Student Work

Here is a personal essay from Ariel, Grade 12:

Sadhana

Everything is blank; a tranquil blackness. Within this serene state, I am completely untouched: a process of rejuvenation. It’s soft in this place, quiet, dark, uneventful, brief. Sleeping for me is not common. I am awakened by the intruding melody of the ring tone on my mobile phone; a tune that will forever trigger the familiar feel of unwillingness conquered: getting my ass up for Sadhana. Torn from the security that my warmly loving comforter never fails to give me, up and out I go into the unwelcome bitter cold darkness of my room. Immediately, my skin tightens. I absent-mindedly brush my teeth, dress myself, pop on my chapals and off I go.

The night Jugat made the announcement that the annual MPA 40-day-Sadhana was going to be the notorious “bowing Jaap Sahib,” something shifted in me. A commitment was involuntarily made. Amongst all the whining and mumbled objections of our uneasy formation, I whole-heartedly promised that there was nothing that could prevent me from fully engaging myself in every aspect of the challenge.

I sit down in my usual spot: behind the Pulki. Sleep is still in my eyes and everything in my body is telling me that I don’t want to be there. I don’t. We sit up to tune in and I join with partial effort. My voice is scratchy and Jugat’s pitch is far too high. We begin our regular yoga exercises as a small attempt to wake everybody up. They seem too short and despite my efforts, my disinclination to be there still lingers. Inevitably, I hear the words I’d been dreading: “Everybody prepare for the bowing.” ‘Such a strange way to say it,’ I think. ‘It sounds like a death sentence or a punishment.’ Regardless of my reluctance, I come sitting on my heels, ready to begin. The music starts, and with the first bow, everything changes. My lack of enthusiasm: non-existent.

As I adhere to the stream of MPA students who are all at once leaving our broken formation and impatiently crowding the entrance to the Gurudwara, I began to wonder what this Sadhana would do for me. I had an unclear idea of the benefits of Jaap Sahib and I vaguely remember Jugat mentioning it once in class. I acknowledge my obedient adherence to the Sadhana and my eagerness to be contained within a discipline. I realize that this is not a quality that I always had.
I feel the cooling droplets of sweat begin to trickle down the smooth of my face and with every bow to the repetitive beat of the probing music, I question why I might ever voluntarily submit myself to such a slicing pain. My mind is inundated with the voice of the rhythmic recitation and with every pulse of the music, a rush of blissful pain courses throughout and into every crevice of my mind, body, and soul. Within every moment, I feel tested and challenged. Every doubt in my mind is flooded by my incontestable and absolute understanding that I will stand victorious over all my skepticism. Nothing can stop me, not even the deepest pain. I refuse to let myself miss even one bow. Just when I think there’s only a hairline trace of my strength left, I perfect everything and suddenly that inkling of hope transforms into a sea of energy that I know will keep me going. The lights are dimmed and the air is thick with devotion; with perseverance. I feel inexhaustible.

It’s an incredibly peculiar thing: a congregation of long-haired teens at 4:30 in the a.m. simultaneously bowing their heads to the beat of a strangely-toned, rhythmic prayer. I often think about what I might be like if I never came to Miri Piri Academy and how much I’ve changed. Much of it seems very unclear to me and impossible to pinpoint. Despite my lack of clarity on the subject, I know for sure one thing that’s changed: I’ve reinforced my ability, through endurance and fortitude, to push through challenges. I have never in my life felt so focused, disciplined, and self-regulated. For this, I can only credit one thing: Sadhana.