Goenkaji began teaching Vipassana in India in 1969, initially only to the Indian community. Since he did not have a proper meditation center, Goenkaji conducted all of his courses at rented locations across the country, traveling wherever he was invited. The size of the courses varied, mainly depending on the size of the available venue. This changed in December 1970 when he expanded his courses to include foreign students. Once word spread to those traveling the Hippie Trail, many foreigners began to join, and the courses grew significantly in size.
Traveling from place to place across India and teaching at rented sites was no easy task for Goenkaji. As a result, some old students began searching for a permanent location where regular courses could be held.
After conducting a course in the nearby city of Nasik in 1973, Goenkaji was met by his students Narayan Dasarwar and Bhoraj Sancheti, who escorted him to a property in Igatpuri located just at the edge of town, only minutes from the main road. They believed it would make an excellent meditation center, and after discussing the idea with him following the course in Nasik, Goenkaji agreed to visit (see Dasarwar’s account “Goenkaji First Steps Foot on the Land”).
As he walked across the land and felt its vibrations, Goenkaji became intrigued. He saw the incredible potential of the site, which was higher than the nearby town’s buildings. It was the perfect location for a meditation center. Overcome with joy, one of the students accompanying Goenkaji immediately offered to purchase the land as a donation, and many others committed to helping develop the center. The purchase process unfolded over many months, well into 1974, and the planning process involving architects, engineers and lawyers took another year. The property was eventually named Dhamma Giri, meaning the Hill of Dhamma (for more details, see Dasarwar’s “How Dhamma Giri Got its Name”).
The site itself was breathtaking. The hill stood at the base of a large plateau, rising hundreds of feet above the land below. The sheer rock cliff towered to a flat top, resembling the mesas found in the Southwestern United States. Covered in lush greenery with hundreds of small waterfalls cascading down its sides, the site was particularly dramatic during the summer monsoon season, when it appeared and disappeared through the mist and clouds.
Between Dhamma Giri and the mesa was a small village, as well as a Tower of Silence—a place where the Parsis left their dead to be consumed by vultures. Nearby, there was a Hindu cremation ghat and a Muslim cemetery. Goenkaji remarked that these features would remind students of the impermanence of life.
When the land was purchased, it included two small bungalows—one with two rooms and another with five. There was also a dilapidated warehouse (godown), which, although in poor condition, could be refurbished to accommodate a few more students (eventually the godown was used to accommodate women students). These buildings dated back to the British Raj, having once served as the residence of a British Colonial Collector. In 1974, a few longtime students began staying there after cleaning and restoring the buildings.
Construction at Dhamma Giri began in 1975, but only the foundations were completed before the monsoon rains arrived. After the rains, construction continued into 1976. A construction company from Mumbai was hired to build high-quality structures, including a kitchen, dining hall, meditation hall, teacher’s residence, and four student dormitories. The walls were made of beautifully laid rock, and the roofs were constructed from corrugated cement. Inside, the walls were smooth plaster, and stone floors added to the aesthetic. However, it soon became clear that there would not be enough accommodations. The four new residence buildings could only house twelve students each.
Graham Gambie from Australia, a student who had been serving steadily since sitting his first course in 1971, came up with the idea of building 25 mud huts. He observed that local villagers made their homes from materials gathered from the jungle and thought constructing similar huts would be an affordable way to quickly increase capacity. Each hut would contain two single rooms, allowing space for 50 more students. In the following years, additional students were accommodated in these huts, further increasing capacity.
To save costs, Graham enlisted the help of foreign students to assist the local villagers who were experienced in building the wattle and daub huts. Students came from a variety of countries, including the Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Malaysia.
Two local students, Narayan Dasarwar and Alka Kulkarni, played an integral role in the development of the center. Narayan's brothers, Lachiram and Datta, worked as interpreters and provided materials for building the huts. Narayan had been staying on the property since it was purchased, while Alka frequently visited with her family to support the efforts. Additionally, there was Sonu Gosavi, a deaf local man who was very smart and helpful. Sonu eventually lived at Dhamma Giri until his death and became intimately familiar with every aspect of the center.
The first challenge was food. We had to manage the kitchen ourselves. We divided into four groups, with each group taking turns cooking lunch. The kitchen was a small, run-down shed that barely resembled a kitchen by most standards. We bought cooking stoves, pots, utensils, soap, and basic ingredients like sugar, salt, and spices from the town. Each day, the cooks went to Igatpuri to buy the necessary food.
Cooking was tricky, as the food had to be tasty to keep everyone happy. The most important task was making delicious chai, for which we received a great deal of criticism if it wasn’t up to par. Everyone quickly became a master chai maker before they left.
The living conditions were basic, similar to those of the villagers. The foreign students didn’t mind, as they were just grateful to serve the Dhamma in any way they could. Initially, we slept on charpoys—wooden and rope beds, which were occasionally visited by bedbugs. Fortunately, the accountants in Mumbai took pity on us and bought metal beds with proper mattresses. During the hot season we slept on the porches under mosquito nets to catch the cool night breeze.
Once we had beds and food (proper toilets were still an issue), we got to work. Some of the hut frames had already been built by skilled village Indians brought in for the job, and our task was to weave flexible sticks to form the walls. A mixture of local clay, straw, cow manure, and water were applied to coat the woven sticks, forming smooth and attractive walls. Flat stones were purchased for the floors and placed on wet mud to keep them level. Skilled Indian village laborers came each day to help with the bulk of this work as we foreigners weren’t experienced in building huts. Tukuram, a local man who lived at the base of the hill, supplied many of the materials by bullock cart.
Purchasing materials rather than gathering them from the jungle was more expensive than anticipated. Despite this, the huts were essential to the center’s development. They were used for many years, constantly being built, rebuilt, and repaired. Anyone who stayed in them has fond memories of their time there. They were relatively cool, and it became a routine to check under the bed each morning to ensure no cobras had taken residence there.
Meanwhile, many other challenges emerged. Water supply was a constant issue, and procuring cement was difficult due to the economic turmoil of the “Emergency” under Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. The only well on the property was very old, and its water level was low. It was about 24 feet deep and 12 feet wide, carved out of solid rock, with snakes often sunning themselves along its edges. We began searching for additional water sources, but boreholes came up dry. Much more water was needed for both construction and the students coming to sit courses.
During this time, Mr. Shyam Sunder Taparia, the project manager for the Trust, visited Dhamma Giri a few times a week from Nasik. He was constantly solving problems to ensure smooth construction. He negotiated with the Indian Railways and the city of Igatpuri to sell water to the Centre. This required another construction project: pipes had to be laid from the edge of town to the well, which served as a storage tank.
We also had to build a pump house to protect the pump from theft. This was when we learned bricklaying and plumbing. Steve Smith from Australia and I worked as the bricklayers, while Steve Lanfere from England, a plumber, helped install the pipes. While things were difficult at times, we were having so much fun and learning so much about Indian construction that we didn’t mind. Of course, we complained sometimes, but these were glorious days, and we knew it.
Goenkaji emphasized that the center must be rooted in meditation practice. We began holding group sittings in the center room of the Collector’s bungalow, which could accommodate 10–15 students. Two group sittings were held each day. This was not a problem for us, as we were all serious about our practice, and it was a welcome addition.
Strict sila was maintained at the center from the start. While silence was not possible due to ongoing discussions about building, planning, administration, and daily life, the atmosphere remained focused on Dhamma. Initially, only men were allowed to stay on the property to avoid any impressions of impropriety. Women stayed in town and visited during the day. When the buildings were finished, a separation system was established, and women were also allowed to stay on-site.
On some weekends, Goenkaji, Mr. Shyam Sunder Taparia, and his brother, Mr. Shree Ram Taparia, visited the center to discuss progress. We always looked forward to these visits, as they meant a group sitting with Goenkaji. For these meetings, we set up extra mattresses under the shade of a large mango tree. We were allowed to listen to discussions, ask questions, and contribute ideas when relevant. Tiffins (Indian food containers) were brought, filled with delicious food, and Mrs. Taparia made her famous sandesh for dessert, which everyone loved.
As the campus began to take shape, the Trust sent an old student named Mahavir Sharma, along with some of his helpers, to cook for us. He was a master chef known for preparing large meals for Indian weddings. We were delighted to have him join the crew; however, it took some time for the kitchen staff to fully understand the importance of maintaining sila at the center. There were some struggles along the way, but eventually, things settled down.
With enough accommodations in place, self-courses began, as Goenkaji wanted to start building the Dhamma vibrations as soon as possible. Initially, the site workers sat in a side room, freeing the main meditation hall for self-courses. Soon, students began arriving for these self-courses, the first being an old friend of Goenkaji, Mr. Laxmi Narayan Rathi.
One evening, during a self-course, a cobra entered the worker’s meditation room. In the dark, no one noticed it until it slithered past Steve Smith, who had an odd feeling and hesitated before reaching for his flashlight. When he turned the light on, the cobra was heading straight for me. After shouting and alerting the students, everyone rushed to the doorway but stayed outside. The cobra, trapped in a corner, stood upright with its hood unfurled, poised to strike.
We called Mahavir for help, but he and his staff refused to assist. Kesar Shah, an elderly Indian lady, came to the rescue, instructing us to use a large biscuit tin to catch the snake. Peter Waugh from New Zealand carefully maneuvered the tin over the snake, trapping it inside. We placed heavy rocks on top and left a sign not to move the tin. In the morning, we safely removed the snake from the property.
There were difficulties along the way—one student was bitten by a scorpion, and a few of us contracted hepatitis. Luckily, Dr. Geo Poland from Canada was there to take care of us. Sometimes, our attachment to views caused conflicts, but Goenkaji used these challenges to teach us the importance of working in harmony while serving the Dhamma. These lessons remained with us in the years to come.
Once the construction of the 25 huts and permanent buildings was completed in February 1976, Goenkaji and Mataji arrived to start a self-course before the actual courses began. Then, misfortune struck. Goenkaji developed severe abdominal pain, and after being taken to Mumbai, it was discovered he had a gallbladder attack. He underwent surgery to have his gallbladder removed.
Despite his pain, Goenkaji maintained his sense of humor. When someone mentioned the air conditioner in his room, he remarked, “Let the air be conditioned, but let the mind be unconditioned.” Fortunately, he recovered fully, and self-courses continued at Dhamma Giri until October 1976 when regular courses could be held.
Some of the students who had helped with construction stayed on to help run the center, while others returned year after year for courses. Eventually, we started centers in our home countries around the world. Now, 49 years later, Dhamma Giri has grown from humble beginnings into one of the largest meditation centers in the world.
May Dhamma continue to grow throughout the world.
Bill Crecelius