When I came to Rikhia in 1989, it was a desolate place. The people living in my neighbourhood had no hope for the future. Now the area is humming with life, and the conditions have improved remarkably. Rikhia is the tribal area of the Santhalis. This state was once called Santhal Parganas. The Santhalis are the indigenous tribe, the original residents, and live here today. They have a great culture, greater than ours.
The Santhalis are my neighbours. They are good people who suffer from ignorance, illiteracy, helplessness and disease. They are poor but loving; they have big hearts and small bank balances. I know the villagers for eight to ten kilometres around me, and they do everything for me. My neighbours have been associated with the Akhara since its inception, and over the years they have worked ceaselessly to construct the ashram.
We utilize the services of the local people for digging excavations, installing pipes, brick laying, electrical fittings, welding, plumbing, carpentry and many other types of work. They maintain and service the vehicles, tractors, truck, cycles and motor cycles, even the UPS. We do not hire artisans or mechanics from the cities. Everything from painting to electrical work is taken care of by local artisans.
When we started construction, the Santhalis cleaned up the entire area before building began and plastered it with mud and cow dung. They are adept at using indigenous materials, and have very good technology. We call the masons vishwakarmas, divine architects, because they have given us so much assistance in constructing the ashram. The local people also look after the horticulture and gardening, and all live within a radius of a few kilometres from the ashram. The Santhalis are intelligent and skilled, honest and hard working, but very independent. They do not pilfer or shirk work. Because of their character the quality of their work is superior, neat and clean. We never have to worry whether or not they will turn up when required. That is why we hold them in high esteem.
I am aware of the problems my neighbours face in their day-to-day lives. Until I was nineteen I lived as a farmer's son in my village home. Then I spent twelve years in my guru’s ashram where I led a much harder life without rest or comfort. After leaving Rishikesh I spent some years as a wandering sannyasin, including some time in Varanasi where I followed the routine of the beggars. In 1989, the people of Rikhia panchayat were living like orphans, totally ignored by the government. Many villagers around us had nothing to eat. Only when Swami Satsangi started visiting the nearby homes did we become aware of their pitiable living conditions. I thought, “My God, how do they live and survive?” She used to send rice, pulse, oil and condiments to such houses and people started arriving at her door.
My arrival has made a substantial change in their destiny. Almost one hundred percent of the children now go to school. We provide the older girls with bicycles so they can travel to the town for higher education. I have suggested that the widows wear clothes similar to normal married women and have offered them such clothes to wear.
We have established a relationship with these rural people. When I go for a stroll to the villages, the people watch out for me and the children say good morning. If they miss seeing me, the children start shouting at their parents, “Mummy, Papa, Swamiji has gone past.” It is not because I give them anything. Love is reciprocal. When you give love, you receive the same amount of love in return. If I ignore you, you are bound to ignore me too.