It’s about ‘Belonging’

Auroville Today: What was it like for you growing up here in Auroville in the 80s and 90s?  

Growing up in Auroville was truly unique. One remarkable aspect that has stuck with me was the opportunity to interact with children from various countries, each with their own languages and backgrounds. It was something that felt so natural from a young age; it was almost like being automatically immersed in this diverse cultural tapestry. Hearing different languages and experiencing various cultures wasn't strange; it was just a part of daily life. After that, going abroad never felt alienating, almost as if one had already been exposed to the whole world here already.

You must have a good idea of what it’s like growing up here today, because of raising your own child. How is it different from when you grew up? 

I believe there's been a shift, and not all of it is for the better. When I reflect on my own childhood, there was a remarkable sense of freedom, a deep connection with nature, and a vivid sense of imagination. However, today, there's a lot more interference from technology, and everything seems to happen at a faster pace. The freedom to explore, especially in nature, and the richness of imagination seem to have taken a backseat.

Back then, learning involved a more in-depth research process. You had to delve into books, conduct thorough research, and the whole experience felt like a journey of exploration. Now, with the internet, information is readily available, and the approach is more about more superficial instant gratification. While it's convenient, I find the process of genuine research, which was so much more rewarding, has somewhat diminished.

Trying new things is not just encouraged, but is a fundamental part of life here. Can you talk a bit more about how this freedom to choose and explore different opportunities has impacted you personally?

The freedom here allows me to explore a variety of activities that I genuinely enjoy. Unlike a traditional job where you might feel confined to a specific role, Auroville provides an environment where you can choose to engage in things that align with your passions, or even just things that you would never have been exposed to and had the opportunity to try out in other settings.

The culture is such that it nurtures exploration and experimentation. For instance, I never anticipated being part of a children's choir, but the opportunity arose, and I took it. This experience wasn't just about playing the piano for the choir; it was about exploring a new facet of myself, understanding the commitment involved, and deciding whether it was something I wanted to pursue further. It's about having the choice and the freedom to try, to experiment, without the pressure of it having to define you.

In many traditional settings, there's a linear path set out from an early age. You get an education in a particular field, and that defines your career and, in many ways, your identity. In Auroville, the approach is much more fluid. You're not boxed into a single identity or profession. I could be involved in music one day and then explore farming the next. There's no strict definition of who you should be or what you should do based on your education or initial career choice. You're free to explore and redefine yourself.

You lived abroad for some time, and then you came back. What were some of the reasons for choosing to come back?

Living abroad gave me a different perspective on life, education, and work. However, what I realised was that the freedom and the learning environment in Auroville is unique. Here, learning is not just about acquiring knowledge; it's a continuous, dynamic process that involves exploring, creating, and growing alongside others. In my role as a teacher – though I often hesitate to use that term in the conventional sense – I find myself constantly learning. Whether it’s art techniques, music, or any other creative field, the learning process is mutual. I learn as much from the process and the students as they learn from me.

Here the term 'teacher' becomes more fluid and expansive. It's less about being an expert and more about being a facilitator of shared learning experiences. For instance, while teaching art, I find myself learning new techniques right along with my students or colleagues. For example, my colleague, who is more experienced in certain art forms like watercolour painting, becomes a teacher to me in those moments. It’s a reciprocal learning environment where everyone is both a teacher and a student at different times. Students are more engaged because they see their teachers also engaging with the material in a genuine way. It’s not just about filling gaps in their knowledge; it’s about embarking on a learning journey together.

Auroville, as a concept, seems to encompass both detachment from ownership and a deep sense of belonging and care. How do you reconcile these seemingly contrasting ideas in your daily life?

Indeed, it's a delicate balance. Auroville, to me, symbolises a journey towards a higher collective purpose, transcending individual ownership. However, this doesn't negate the importance of personal attachment and responsibility. In fact, it's this very sense of personal care and investment that brings vitality and beauty to the community.

While Auroville belongs to 'nobody in particular’ it thrives because each one of us feels a profound connection to it. We take care of our homes, our spaces, and our community, not because we own them in the traditional sense, but because we are deeply invested in their well-being. This investment is not materialistic; it's about nurturing and contributing to a shared vision.

We are here to contribute, to grow, and to help nurture a collective dream. My home, or any space I inhabit in Auroville, is a reflection of this philosophy. I care for it, not because it's mine in a conventional sense, but because my contribution and care are part of a larger tapestry of community and shared values.

It's about understanding that while physically, my home or my workspace might not belong to me in the conventional sense, emotionally and spiritually, they do. I care for them, I invest in them, and I make them beautiful because that's part of making Auroville what it is. It's this personal investment and care that collectively creates the Auroville we love.

It may sound paradoxical: it doesn't belong to you and yet it has to belong? You can’t feel like it belongs to you if you might have to suddenly leave. You have to feel like it belongs, otherwise you're not invested in it. And if you are not invested, it is people’s nature to tend to neglect, and then things fall apart.

I’ve been asking myself recently, what would I be giving up? When you have been in one place for a long time and you have put all your energy into it, even if it's just for hundreds of tiny things, or a big thing, even if it's just placing a stone exactly where you want it to be, it is then very challenging when you are confronted with the idea that you might be asked to suddenly leave it all. Because it doesn't belong to us. Then it becomes about acceptance and surrender, and you have to start working on yourself again all over again, trying to be okay with whatever may come. That's what's happening right now.

I think that's really beautiful. It makes a lot of sense. And we're talking about the home which is mostly the physical home. And on a more inner level, do you feel like you belong to Auroville and you feel like Auroville belongs to you?

When I talk about my 'little bubble,' I mean the space I've created around myself — my home, my workspace, the way I interact with nature and people around me. It's a reflection of my values and my connection to Auroville. By nurturing beauty and peace in my immediate surroundings, I feel I'm contributing to the larger picture of Auroville. This, in turn, inspires others. When they see a well-cared-for home or garden, it encourages them to do the same, creating a chain reaction of positivity and beauty.

It's about showing through action how Auroville's principles can be manifested in daily life. The beauty of the Matrimandir gardens, for example, isn't just aesthetic. It's a symbol of what we can achieve when we work in harmony with nature and with each other. And that beauty can be brought into your own room, garden and space. I try to instill this understanding in the children I teach — that creating beauty around them is part of creating a better community.

And it can sometimes lean towards an organic and nature-inspired aesthetic. It's about being able to connect with oneself and simply appreciate nature. There was a time when we had the luxury of spending moments in solitude, gazing at the beauty of the natural world, simply being and doing some inner work. As an adult, I find myself having less of those moments.

Because adult life gets too busy?

In youth, such moments of reflection were more accessible. As time goes by, there's a tendency to overlook them. It's as if with age, the urgency to engage in those moments diminishes, as we get caught by many tasks. However, being in Auroville provides the chance to consciously remind oneself of that, of taking time. It's an environment that encourages self-reflection and prompts you to return to your work, your inner work, your outer work, whatever it may be.

Returning to the topic of teaching, it's a shared experience among those who grew up here that different teachers have diverse approaches. In the present day, this diversity in teaching styles remains a characteristic feature of the educational landscape. What do you make of that?

Our teachers in Auroville definitely had diverse teaching styles. This variety, I believe, stems from the cultural diversity we're immersed in here. You grow accustomed to interacting with a wide array of cultures and behaviours, and that extends to education. So, when you encounter a teacher with a unique approach, it becomes a norm rather than an exception. You learn to accept that one teacher might have a certain method, while another differs significantly.

However, this acceptance doesn't come without its challenges. With such varied teaching styles, there can be gaps in the learning process for the students. It raises the question: is there a more effective way to integrate these different approaches? While diversity in teaching enriches the learning experience, it also highlights the need for a cohesive structure that can bridge the gaps and ensure a more comprehensive educational experience.

Is the way you teach shaped by all these alternative ways of teaching?

Definitely. The alternative teaching methods I've been exposed to have significantly influenced the way I approach teaching. The passion and genuine interest that our teachers here displayed in their subjects left a lasting impact on me. I observed that when a teacher is truly passionate about a topic, it resonates with students, creating a desire to learn and explore that subject further.

However, despite the passionate and engaging teaching styles, as I mentioned before, I've noticed a potential area for improvement – a need for more collective interaction. As a musician, for instance, I've come to realise the importance of accepting one's own limitations, acknowledging gaps in knowledge, and having the courage to seek help from fellow musicians. This openness not only enhances personal growth but also opens doors to unexpected opportunities, whether it's musical collaborations or shared experiences in the process of learning and performing.

It’s about the importance of collective interaction and learning from one another. It's not just about individual excellence but also about creating a collaborative and supportive learning environment among us adults as well as for the children.