THE RATHNA ORIGIN STORY
Letting go of the old and bringing in the new
When I was a child, I loved going to my friend’s house, next door. Even after we moved houses, I continued my visits and I would often tell her, “I love your house”. Nodding her assent, she would proudly state several reasons as to why it was the best. The solemn discussion about the beauty and comfort of her house would conclude with us agreeing that the house had something we couldn’t describe in words.
Some years later, to my joy and astonishment, a random family conversation revealed to me that the house was ours, that it belonged to my mother. I dreamed of us living there but alas, we didn’t. Time went by, my mother passed away, I was married and divorced, and somewhere during that period, I moved into the top floor of the house I loved. I enjoyed living there, in my cozy den, cherishing my terrace garden. Not only I, every one of my innumerable friends and guests who entered the place, loved it. It became commonplace to hear each new visitor exclaim in wonder at how lovely it was and how good they felt there. It was an open house with an open heart, if a house did have a heart. It certainly had open doors. It was a grounding space of stability, comfort and safety. It nurtured me as it did several of my friends and relatives, holding each one in times of need and allowing one to be. It was also the hub of fun and joyous celebration. It was a haven of peace.
The property that was given by a father to his daughter, as a symbol of safety and security when she was deserted by her husband, continued to fulfil its role with the next generation.
At some point, I moved to the ground floor, where my private practice began. It pleased me a lot to hear clients invariably remark on the peace and healing energy they felt there. One very sceptical client surprised me when he said, “I feel healed the minute I enter this space.”
I recognized the feeling we couldn’t describe as children, to be the energy that the place held. As I lived and worked there, expanding to art and theatre, to meditation, we all experienced great healing and transformation. My home became a second home to many, to participate, to hang out, to chill. Many times in subsequent years, I have heard people reminisce about the wondrous times they had there.
It would be nice if the story ended thus, but that was not to be. A purpose beyond this awaited birth and fulfilment.
The next decade saw me travelling incessantly and it became convenient to rent out the house while I moved to an apartment across the road, which I had taken anyway to conduct workshops.
The building had been developing cracks and although I was assured of its structural safety, it did call for a lot of maintenance. The time for change was approaching, yet I was not ready to let go. A few more years went by with my focus on work and travel. I toyed with the plan to rebuild, and even though I kept fueling the idea to keep the intention alive, I let it remain on the back-burner.
Finally, in 2015, inspired to build my centre and home in the premises, I saw the new story emerge. The house was vacated and paperwork was in progress. The house with a heart also had a mind of its own. Having hosted happy tenants for nearly a decade, it now needed a re-alignment of energy towards the larger purpose it was to serve. As we awaited permissions, the alignment began. The place became host to a series of weekly workshops, training, several activities and daily processes, including group meditation, all of which culminated in a gratitude session.
Each week saw a good number of people, known and unknown, come and experience great shifts and transformation. For me, it was a period of joy mingled with the sorrow of parting. There was a spurt of energy, that spark of life that lights up the being, just before letting go to death. It is difficult to describe the energy present. It was not just alive, it seemed like every aspect of life and death had to be experienced, before the old made way for the new.
It was a whole year before the plans and demolition papers were in place. After paying respects to every nook and cranny, with a heavy heart, I swung the hammer against the wall to begin the demolition. My grief was unbounded and I ran up the stairs one last time to touch and feel each spot I cherished, nestling into the corners that had nurtured and nourished me, sobbing and howling, re-living the memories of so long ago.
Memories that had faded, that were fresh, that were buried, all coming alive again together, to meet once more, for that single spurt of breath and life before they were blasted into nothingness. Destruction was creating new ground for construction. The building had to go, the emotions had to be allowed to surface, to be expressed, released, broken down, to dissipate, making space for the new. New ideas, thoughts, building, new memories to evolve, all needed space.
Bhoomi pooja was done, promising Vastu purusha that I would be a trustworthy guardian of the land. We wrote affirmative words and statements on pieces of paper and placed them in the soil as the foundation work commenced. I felt hope and excitement. However, I lived out all my fears and insecurities about handling this humongous project on my own. As the building began to rise, so did the challenges. Errors, big and small required solutions. The vernacular saying I used to laugh at, “pelli chesi choodu, illu katti choodu” translating to, “conduct a marriage and see, build a house and see” implying the magnitude of the task, proved itself.
Personally, this has been a powerful learning and growth experience. Living as a single person, I am bereft of everyday triggers from close ones that would help identify my weak spots. This venture shed light on dark areas that awaited cleansing. The project was my dream, one that was close to my heart, representing my past, delivering in the present and creating for the future. It was one big opportunity to trigger me enough to shake up and uncover old repressed stuff. Disempowering situations arose every day. Acknowledging every difficult person or circumstance as a projection of myself, I found many opportunities to heal and integrate aspects of myself. So amidst the problems, chaos, anger and the heartache that ensued, I began to gain balance within. The building and I are both work in progress, growing and unfolding together.
However big the challenge, nothing could undermine the magical energy that the place held. The energy was not just retained but enhanced by the hands that laboured to raise the new structure. My gratitude flows to the workers on site, the perfect people to build this centre for healing, growth, purification and transformation. Disciplined, content, smiling, working in silent unity, never shouting or displaying disharmony, they immersed themselves in sculpting the building. It was soothing to see smooth and harmonious interaction as different teams worked simultaneously. The sincerity of their prayers during festivals and pooja days would awaken a chord even in a non ritualistic me. A sense of calm and peace engulfs me on each of my daily visits to the site.
In the midst of everything, we celebrated the gruhapravesam and my shashtipoorthi with homams and abhishekam. Purification with fire and water blessings were augmented with the divine voice of Bombay Jayashri who graced the occasion, blessing the building with her sublime singing. I can only describe her singing voice as a channel for Source energy. It simply washed away any fears and resistance that were present.
Continuing challenges offered me more opportunities to purify and transform. With every challenge came a blessing. When I was left helpless, let down by people I entrusted the project with, the team heads were unanimous in their determination to support the completion of the building, at the risk of losing the next project. Every misadventure has revealed the better side of humanity and instilled new hope. This herculean project has loosened me up and has allowed me to breathe easy with more trust in life. Not as an intellectual understanding but as experiential wisdom.
While work continued on other floors, the ground floor was ready and the workshops commenced in the training hall. Rewind or fast-forward, the response is the same. We are greeted by an awed silence or gasps of wonder as we welcome people into the hall. The old walls have gone, the boundaries have changed, but the space remains, the magic stays, the energy prevails.
The small corner plot, situated along the road named after him, lovingly bequeathed by my grandfather, Puram Prakasa Rao, to empower his daughter, Ratnavali, continues to serve its higher purpose, holding the space, not for one person or family, but for people across the globe in their journey of life and liberation.
The entrance is from Puram Prakasa Road, allowing the protective, paternal energy to flow into the nurturing, maternal space, for it to share its expansive benevolence with the world.
My grandfather had built many houses and had always given a name to each one.
To my eager queries about a name for our house, his reply used to be that it was not calling for one. It appears that the call has come now.
Honouring the lineage of this sacred space, it is befitting that the building standing on Puram Prakasa road is named Rathna, short for Ratnavali.
