My crusty brown bedfellows were still snoring soundly when I leapt up and onto the mat at 4.30am to welcome the day and prepare myself for my trip to Ramesvaram. All I can say is, on some days I just know I will need my yoga practise. I might not know what the day has planned for me, but somewhere in there I can just sense I'm gonna need every ounce of patience, energy, groundedness and balls. This was one of those days. From the minute I got myself onto the but at 7.30am it was a day quite unlike any other.
From the word go I hit it off with the uber friendly and helpful driver who was damned if he was going to make any effort to help me understand a word that he said or anything that was on the agenda for the day. Not that I expected any special treatment, being the only non-Indian on the bus, but a friendly smile at the very least never goes amiss. Not to bother, though, I found a companion in the extremely reserved, recently retired businessman sitting next to me with the most mesmerising chin and nose profile that, try as I might, I couldn't take my eyes off as he munched his way through one baby Indian banana after another (the small things, eh?). No, we didn't have a lot in common, but i appreciated his help in pushing me off the bus and around the rather nondescript temples that we stopped off at en route. When, 5 hours later, we finally came onto Ramesvaram 'Island' over the amazingly long Pamban Bridge (2.5 Kilometres), we were once more turfed off the bus, only this time told not to bother taking out shoes with us. Apparently we really weren't going to need them where we were going.
So we trudged through the gorgeous piles of general rubbish and mud and unthinkables that is the 'holy' beach of Ramesvaram to dip our toes in its sacred waters. And from there onto the temple, the centre of this apparently poverty-stricken and waste-strewn town. As I tiptoed in zigzags down the street, trying not to unwittingly pierce my feet on whatever might be lurking in the depths of an enormous cowpat, and trying to fathom the logic in allowing these grimey slimey feet to walk the holy temple floors (how can this be respectful when shoes are not?), one young lad who was excorting his mother in this pilgramage finally plucked up the courage to ask me something that appeared to have been playing on his mind. With a face expressing utter bemusement plus a touch of amusement, he said: 'Why on earth have you come to Ramesvaram?' Somewhat stunned, I think I gave some nondescript reply about being interested in Hinduism. But it was becoming painfully clear that Western tourists don't come here. I most certainly was the odd one out. Laugh and point. And hold your head up high Arianna, because you are here for the day, and the bus has just driven off with your shoes in it.
Going into the temple, I made two friends a pair of young Indians on my bus who spoke great English and could clearly recognise a young white girl way-out-of-her-depth. Before I knew it, under their instruction, I handed over 100 rupees to the Brahmin priest who greeted us and, without knowing what I was in for, was ushered along the stone floor, noticing that it was particularly damp in here. Soon standing in a queue I noticed the people coming back towards me were rather....in fact, very....wet (and still staring at me). Slowly approaching the front it dawned on me that I was indeed about to have a large bucket of well water dumped on my head. Screaming from the inside - 'no! I didn't bring a change of clothes!' all I wanted was to run pretty darn fast in the other direction. But, slowly coming around (as people do), I realised that I couldn't possibly be such a spoil sport. I couldn't come all this way and turn down my holy dip. This could be life-changing. How regrettable would it be to pass this up? With which I fully embraced an entire bucket over the head, all the while thanking myself for choosing to wear heavy cotton yoga clothes that take hours and hours to dry. Bring it on. Om. I must have looked like I really enjoyed it as our lovely Brahmin priest felt the need to bless me twice. And I took it in good spirit, knowing I wouldn't be doing this again.
And so we walked on, me thinking maybe we'd be heading into the main shrine or something. Not so, another queue. For another well. Oh yes. In fact, as my jaw fell open, my two young Indian friends spilled the beans that that had been well number one of a total of twenty two. People come to Ramesvaram for the 22 Holy Dips. Didn't I know? (...erm.....)
Some (intelligent) people bring a change of clothes.
Half an hour later, completely soaked through to my very bone marrow, as we approached well number 22, I confess I was beginning to dig deep in my own well of carefree joy to find the fun and sponteneity in the occasion. I knew it was in there somewhere, but I confess it was pretty hard to ward off the general feeling of being completely cold, wet and, rather than cleansed and purified, utterly manky. I was just soooo looking forward to the next 7 hours of lunch and bus travel in heavy, wet, smelly clothes, the situation not even slightly eased by the option of stripping off any layers, this being Hindu India. Mmmmmm. In the company of noone that I felt I could particularly relate to. Boy, did I thank myself for reading the smallprint. Nonetheless, even though I tried to get past the final well with just a sprinkling, I failed. They seemed to have it in for me, let's give the little white girl a day to remember. And, after all, well number 22 is the holiest of them all, equal to Ganga water. Well (ha ha ha), there you have it.
Before I knew it I was in ANOTHER queue, this time for the main Siva shrine. At first the Brahmin priest said I, being a non-Hindu, couldn't go in. But with the help of my two friends, 100 rupees, very little say in the matter and a bold mass of yellow and red paste slathered across my forehead, I swiftly became a Hindu ("you are Hindu now") and was pushed forward into the sea of over-excited people (who said money can't buy faith?). Yet another Indian party queue, the fact that we were penned in like cattle (and no doubt smelling just as bad) buoyed up by people continuously breaking into chant, keeping the energy at fever pitch as we all inched our way towards the Siva lingam (the erect penis that is the most commonly worshipped symbol of Siva). Just as we were getting close and the atmosphere seemed almost at breaking point, lunchtime temple closing bells began to toll. As the general panic set in I became one with the mass of bodies surging forward, desparate for a moment's gazing on beloved Siva before being pushed out the other side of the shrine. All the while my Indian friends were frantically telling me to quickly 'pray, pray, for someone you love'...I did my very best to be sincere despite the alien environment of organised religion and pressure, but as always in such situations I couldn't help feeling that my efforts were somewhat tainted by the shadows of falseness.
Ejected out of the other side, we finally had a few minutes to catch our breath and some photographic evidence of the wet t-shirt competition (coming soon!). When we finally managed to find our bus, I hopped aboard, ready to leave, only to wait and watch as every sensible and well-prepared other bdy in our group fetched their fresh, dry clothes and, one by one, freshened up and changed, ready for lunch and the afternoon ahead. Lucky them. I sat and prepared myself for 7 more hours of sogginess. Om. Having already popped into the lunch place to check out their glorious Indian toilet, and in the process having brought the entire place to a hushed standstill as everybody gawped in my direction, I took a rain check on lunch that day. Perhaps stupidly (in retrospect) but humanly, after the morning's antics I felt somewhat lacking in any more caution to throw to the wind to get me through a lunch of being stared at by an entire room like a circus freak on show, and I confess I went and hid on the bus with a bag of nuts. Had I known the afternoon I was in for I might have made another choice, but I didn't. An hour later, with everyone aboard once more, we set off....but, to my surprise, not in the homeward bound direction of Madurai. No, this bus was going to Kannyakumari..for the night. A rather unfortunate situation seeing as, not only had I had already been there, but I was sat here, soaked to the skin, with all of my belongings in Madurai, a five hour drive in the other direction. Perfect. The one real blessing here was that my two Indian friends were also going in my direction, and so although I never quite figured out how and why this confusion happened, I did manage to get back to Madurai (some 6 hours later). Our lovely bus driver, the epitome of friendliness and service, evidently felt himself free of any responsibility to help us get the ride back to Madurai that we had paid for, but with a good amount of prodding from my Indian friends he finally struck up some kind of deal with the owner of a smaller bus. In true Indian style this came with its own complications, largely involving us having to wait for a further two hours as some others went and did their temple dunking rounds. Oh well (ha ha ha), more time for me to dry out. Om. I simply didn't believe it when we finally set off from Ramesvaram at about 4pm, lesser still when, after what seemed like the longest journey on earth, I finally walked through the door of my cell, welcomed by my crusty brown roommates, at 9pm. Has a cold bucket shower and a belly full of lentils ever felt so good? Maybe after that day I was truly purified... but far more importantly it taught me the value of the simple things in life.....and of reading the small print.
Saturday 13 March 2010
Thursday 4 March 2010
Six days, seven temples, and a hole in the head.....First stop Madurai
And so began another journey. On arrival into Kodaikkanal I managed to get a ride down from the mountains in the back of a jeep full of young Indian men, rather than taking the public bus. Despite having my legs bent over the piles of luggage at a few too many unnatural angles, this was actually a much nicer option, not least because the seat was actually properly upholstered and not covered in something dubiously sticky. Even better, we got to stop several times on route to make friends with the monkeys and share their fabulous vantage points of the mountains and waterfalls.
I passed a little bit of time in the usual chit-chat, following the same predictable blueprint that you can expect when talking to any Indian stranger in public:
Where are you from?
Are you married?
How old are you?
Why are you not married?
When are you going to get married?
What do you do?
Do you work for a private company or for the government?
How much do you earn?
You are travelling alone....oooh, brave lady!
However this particular conversation had the added extra of deeking off into the world of sport, as my companion was, like many Indian men, passionate about football and cricket. When, on hearing I was from London, he asked me if I knew of Lord's Cricket Ground, I proudly told him I lived but 15 minutes walk away. But my glory was short-lived - when it became clear I had absolutely zero knowledge, interest or conversation in the realms of football or cricket, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Clearly I was a big disappointment. Oops.
Some hours later the jeep dumped me rather ungraciously in the middle of Madurai. For some reason I had naively thought that, being somewhere in between a bus and a taxi, it might take me to the hotel I had pinpointed in my book. Not so. And so I found myself standing on the edge of one of Madurai's busiest roads amidst all of its chaos of cars, trucks, tuk-tuks, cows, dogs, and people, balancing my various loads off my various limbs whilst repeatedly turning my guidebook in circles to try to figure out North from South from East from West, from where on earth am I?, let alone where I am going to? It's amazing the amount of peace, space and calm you can find within you at these times when one might think there would be none (largely because there's only so long I can stay upright holding all my luggage in the blazing sun). And then another angel appeared from the midst of the chaos. That little voice in the back of my head saying 'no I don't want a ride in your taxi I just want to know where I am!' was quickly and firmly put in its place when I soon discovered that this lovely toothless man wanted nothing other than to JUST HELP ME. And so, heading straight on and taking the second left, within 5 minutes I was installed in my new quarters. Yet another perfect journey.
After getting installed and handing over my laundry to the very eager bell boy, still feeling full of beans I decided to tackle the sights of Madurai that same day. After stocking up on first class grub from the fabulous restaurant opposite and getting laughed at for asking for a coffee at lunch time (again), I headed first to the palace and then to the temple. As warned by my guidebook the palace is rather run down but I enjoyed having (more than) four walls between me and the chaos of Madurai.
The Meenakshi Temple is pretty immense and I have to say, it being my first 'major' Indian temple, I think I found it rather baffling. I couldn't even figure out where the main entrance was at first, and once I did manage to get inside, through the scanners and past the endless people trying to sell me stuff, I had enormous trouble trying to figure the geography of the place. So, of course, in these circumstances, you have to just follow your nose and, if that's no good, then just follow everybody else...the only problem here being that there were people EVERYWHERE going in all directions, forming queues for things written unintelligibly (to me) in Tamil. And what's more, 'everybody else,' being Hindu, is allowed throughout the temple, but I am not - no hindus allowed into any of the main shrines (which seemed to be everywhere). Suffice to say that I made my way around the temple in a manner remiscent of a ping pong ball, covering all possible surfaces and directions by rebounding off a mixture of people and walls. Chaotic, but fun, and actually quite insightful in the end. And, I think, rather in keeping with the general character of the place which, like so many Indian temples, and reflecting the culture in general, is yet another example of this beautiful tendency to have a party, even a visual one, at every opportunity. I mean, check this out for garish architecture....is there anything more kitsch and totally extremist and fun?
Of course this picture doesn't capture the detail, but this is basically an intricate mass of carvings of deities and hindu symbols, painted all manner of crazy colours (with a particular penchant for blue and pink). I did manage to find the 1000 pillared hall (which is actually a few pillars short, apparently) and the group of musical pillars which didn't appear to make any noise (I think this requires training). But most striking to me (sad but true) was the amazing pertness and roundness of the breasts of Lakshmi and Durga throughout the temple - worthy of a doily and a paper cup, methinks... these sculptors seriously had some fun.
When it came to leaving time I made my way out of an exit only to discover that it most certainly was not the one I came in by, unfortunate as that was where I had left my shoes. Rather than hopping and whooping along the steaming pavement, I fought my way back in through the scanners and after a challenging reorientatin session managed to find the right exist and was finally reunited with my footwear. Wandering around the temple and getting hassled to go into one of the many surrounding shops to have a look at the rooftop temple view, I finally decided to take up a kind offer rather than keep rejecting what was in front of my nose. Another pleasant surprise and lesson in trusting people. The beautiful Kashmiri man wanted nothing other than to let me see the lovely sunset view, which we stared at as he told me about how he misses his homeland but why he has had to leave for work because of all the political troubles there. Far from trying to sell me stuff, this was simply a lovely opportunity for some peace above the chaos of Madurai, some lovely conversation and another chance to learn and expand my boundaries of trust and openness. Bouncing back to my hotel I was literally grinning from the inside out fom another lovely encounter with another beautiful person, another shattering of my preconceptions and expectations. Also, I have to say I did also feel pretty relieved to be away from the ashram, back in the thick of India and following my own path into somewhere. I hadn't been expecting to love Madurai so much - all I was expecting was chaos and an impressive temple. But actually what I found was a deeply friendly city throbbing with life. I didn't walk 10 paces that night without another 'Namaste' or 'Hello how are you?' or, actually and uniquely in Madurai, 'Bonjour, comment ca va?,' because apparently, to these people, I appeared to be French........? Freaky or uniquey.....?
Having until this point steered clear of organised tours or excursions, I was now (to my surprise) contemplating checking one out, though not sure if it was really my cup of tea. I love travelling alone but it can be kind of tiring, and I was wondering if, in some ways, you can get more insights into certain places if you go with a group or if, on the contrary, you just skim the surface. I had read about Ramesvaram in my guide book, a town on the South Coast again (like Kanniyakumari but much further East into tamil and a stepping stone's distance from Sri Lanka) with another big temple. It is one of India's most sacred shrines and a serious destination for pilgrims, and for some reason it ignited my interest (at this point I hadn't read the small print). However, it being in completely the wrong direction for my general route, I decided to take a day trip from Madurai, and finally decided to try out a 'tour group'. So, bundling into a little place, I managed to get myself booked onto a bus for the following morning at 7.30am. I nearly also got myself married off in the process as the husband and wife team running the show seemed to take rather a liking to me...expressed by the most classic welcome of leaping up, lip-smacking, embracing my folded hands and expressing an abundance of sounds of relish, approval and joy at my presence.
Back in my room I was surprised when the doorbell rang and the dearly enthusiastic laundry man was standing there glowing with all of my clean and pressed clothes. Despite having clearly told me it would be 24 hours, here they were again and clean after only 10, and he was evidently enormously proud. I have no idea why but for some reason my laundry had been singled out for 'special service.' This is not the only time I have come across such dedication and pride in laundry work, and it really makes my heart melt. A similar man, later on in Pondicherry, on returning my clothes to me, insisted I go through each item and inspect it, impeccably washed, pressed and folded, and then organised into a bundle and wrapped in paper and tied with string. Such dedication to and pride in this simple work, I find it so beautiful.
My time in the mountains of Tamil, although not quite what I had been expecting in terms of yoga study, was actually (as these things often are) a true learning experience, albeit in a slightly different way. Other than the call of Nature, I hadn't been consciously aware of what had driven me to go there in the first place - no recommendations or heresay, just a feeling that this might be the right path for my ongoing development in yoga and life. Upon leaving and realising this was not the place for me, I began to realise that I must, indeed, be looking for something, even if I had to realise this by negation. I wondered to myself whether I was, like the millions of others before me, walking the cliched path of someone who 'goes off to India to 'find themselves'' But, try as I might, I couldn't make this glove fit. Well, not in the sense that I was expecting some thunder-and-lightening moment of realisation where I uncover a new and totally different Arianna underneath. Actually I am happy with who I am and where I am going - and all I think I am looking for is an environment which can nurture my ongoing development in life and support my study and practise of yoga (which, to me, are one and the same). It really seems to be that simple. Which is when I realised that, whilst there might be certain places which appear to be more conducive to this nurturing, really this place is everywhere. I deeply know, but sometimes just need to remind myself, that the truest and most nourishing yoga practise takes place every minute of every day in any place. And so, whilst these days of my travelling time seemed to be more characterised by moving from place to place as a tourist - I had a heady week of temple trailing ahead of me - it was simply up to me to make sure I bring my yoga into all of this, not just leaving it on my sticky mat in the mornings.
But, of course, I am human, and I forget. It's just so much easier in an ashram when someone enforces yur schedule, tells you when to eat and does all the cooking, makes you go to bed early and get up before sunrise, gives you no other option than to be quiet and reflective. So I decided to make a few practical decisions to keep me embedded in my yoga whilst on the Tamil temple trail. What better way to start than with the YAMAS and NIYAMAS, the first two paths of Patanjali's Ashtanga Yoga (a set of 5 'restraints' and 5 'observences' which together make up something akin to a moral code for living)? I figured if I worked with one a week, that would see me through most of my time in India. Although I've spent time contemplating them before, I've never dedicated myself to each one in turn for any period of time. Seemed like a simple way to relly get to know them. Decision. Starting today, YAMA number one: AHIMSA, non-violence (to all sentient beings, including oneself, in thought and intention as well as in action).
All was going well. And then I found my bedmates. Cockroaches. Little brown ones. Yummy. To be fair, I was paying only 290 rupees for my cell, complete with Indian toilet and cold bucket shower (don't you just love them?), and it had seemed quite clean, but nonetheless, what human doesn't autmatically go onto autopilot 'exterminate' at at the sight of them? Naturally, I jumped and squirmed and off scurried the little crusty beasts into the cracks in the bedframe, out of sight and out of reach. From somewhere in the deep recesses of my spirit I was able to let them go, off into their own space and out of my head. God bless earplugs and silk sleeping bag liners, by the power of which, somehow, I managed to drift off into a world of amazingly sound sleep. And so the little buggers were saved, rather more by the faulty woodwork than by my overriding devotion to ahimsa (sadly I admit that, could I have reached them, they might not have made it through the night). But I can't help but think that something might have been working with me, giving me a little push in the right direction of absolute ahimsa, even in the most difficult situations. Apparently this is how you simply let everyone and everything simply be in their own space. You just do.
I passed a little bit of time in the usual chit-chat, following the same predictable blueprint that you can expect when talking to any Indian stranger in public:
Where are you from?
Are you married?
How old are you?
Why are you not married?
When are you going to get married?
What do you do?
Do you work for a private company or for the government?
How much do you earn?
You are travelling alone....oooh, brave lady!
However this particular conversation had the added extra of deeking off into the world of sport, as my companion was, like many Indian men, passionate about football and cricket. When, on hearing I was from London, he asked me if I knew of Lord's Cricket Ground, I proudly told him I lived but 15 minutes walk away. But my glory was short-lived - when it became clear I had absolutely zero knowledge, interest or conversation in the realms of football or cricket, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Clearly I was a big disappointment. Oops.
Some hours later the jeep dumped me rather ungraciously in the middle of Madurai. For some reason I had naively thought that, being somewhere in between a bus and a taxi, it might take me to the hotel I had pinpointed in my book. Not so. And so I found myself standing on the edge of one of Madurai's busiest roads amidst all of its chaos of cars, trucks, tuk-tuks, cows, dogs, and people, balancing my various loads off my various limbs whilst repeatedly turning my guidebook in circles to try to figure out North from South from East from West, from where on earth am I?, let alone where I am going to? It's amazing the amount of peace, space and calm you can find within you at these times when one might think there would be none (largely because there's only so long I can stay upright holding all my luggage in the blazing sun). And then another angel appeared from the midst of the chaos. That little voice in the back of my head saying 'no I don't want a ride in your taxi I just want to know where I am!' was quickly and firmly put in its place when I soon discovered that this lovely toothless man wanted nothing other than to JUST HELP ME. And so, heading straight on and taking the second left, within 5 minutes I was installed in my new quarters. Yet another perfect journey.
After getting installed and handing over my laundry to the very eager bell boy, still feeling full of beans I decided to tackle the sights of Madurai that same day. After stocking up on first class grub from the fabulous restaurant opposite and getting laughed at for asking for a coffee at lunch time (again), I headed first to the palace and then to the temple. As warned by my guidebook the palace is rather run down but I enjoyed having (more than) four walls between me and the chaos of Madurai.
The Meenakshi Temple is pretty immense and I have to say, it being my first 'major' Indian temple, I think I found it rather baffling. I couldn't even figure out where the main entrance was at first, and once I did manage to get inside, through the scanners and past the endless people trying to sell me stuff, I had enormous trouble trying to figure the geography of the place. So, of course, in these circumstances, you have to just follow your nose and, if that's no good, then just follow everybody else...the only problem here being that there were people EVERYWHERE going in all directions, forming queues for things written unintelligibly (to me) in Tamil. And what's more, 'everybody else,' being Hindu, is allowed throughout the temple, but I am not - no hindus allowed into any of the main shrines (which seemed to be everywhere). Suffice to say that I made my way around the temple in a manner remiscent of a ping pong ball, covering all possible surfaces and directions by rebounding off a mixture of people and walls. Chaotic, but fun, and actually quite insightful in the end. And, I think, rather in keeping with the general character of the place which, like so many Indian temples, and reflecting the culture in general, is yet another example of this beautiful tendency to have a party, even a visual one, at every opportunity. I mean, check this out for garish architecture....is there anything more kitsch and totally extremist and fun?
Of course this picture doesn't capture the detail, but this is basically an intricate mass of carvings of deities and hindu symbols, painted all manner of crazy colours (with a particular penchant for blue and pink). I did manage to find the 1000 pillared hall (which is actually a few pillars short, apparently) and the group of musical pillars which didn't appear to make any noise (I think this requires training). But most striking to me (sad but true) was the amazing pertness and roundness of the breasts of Lakshmi and Durga throughout the temple - worthy of a doily and a paper cup, methinks... these sculptors seriously had some fun.
When it came to leaving time I made my way out of an exit only to discover that it most certainly was not the one I came in by, unfortunate as that was where I had left my shoes. Rather than hopping and whooping along the steaming pavement, I fought my way back in through the scanners and after a challenging reorientatin session managed to find the right exist and was finally reunited with my footwear. Wandering around the temple and getting hassled to go into one of the many surrounding shops to have a look at the rooftop temple view, I finally decided to take up a kind offer rather than keep rejecting what was in front of my nose. Another pleasant surprise and lesson in trusting people. The beautiful Kashmiri man wanted nothing other than to let me see the lovely sunset view, which we stared at as he told me about how he misses his homeland but why he has had to leave for work because of all the political troubles there. Far from trying to sell me stuff, this was simply a lovely opportunity for some peace above the chaos of Madurai, some lovely conversation and another chance to learn and expand my boundaries of trust and openness. Bouncing back to my hotel I was literally grinning from the inside out fom another lovely encounter with another beautiful person, another shattering of my preconceptions and expectations. Also, I have to say I did also feel pretty relieved to be away from the ashram, back in the thick of India and following my own path into somewhere. I hadn't been expecting to love Madurai so much - all I was expecting was chaos and an impressive temple. But actually what I found was a deeply friendly city throbbing with life. I didn't walk 10 paces that night without another 'Namaste' or 'Hello how are you?' or, actually and uniquely in Madurai, 'Bonjour, comment ca va?,' because apparently, to these people, I appeared to be French........? Freaky or uniquey.....?
Having until this point steered clear of organised tours or excursions, I was now (to my surprise) contemplating checking one out, though not sure if it was really my cup of tea. I love travelling alone but it can be kind of tiring, and I was wondering if, in some ways, you can get more insights into certain places if you go with a group or if, on the contrary, you just skim the surface. I had read about Ramesvaram in my guide book, a town on the South Coast again (like Kanniyakumari but much further East into tamil and a stepping stone's distance from Sri Lanka) with another big temple. It is one of India's most sacred shrines and a serious destination for pilgrims, and for some reason it ignited my interest (at this point I hadn't read the small print). However, it being in completely the wrong direction for my general route, I decided to take a day trip from Madurai, and finally decided to try out a 'tour group'. So, bundling into a little place, I managed to get myself booked onto a bus for the following morning at 7.30am. I nearly also got myself married off in the process as the husband and wife team running the show seemed to take rather a liking to me...expressed by the most classic welcome of leaping up, lip-smacking, embracing my folded hands and expressing an abundance of sounds of relish, approval and joy at my presence.
Back in my room I was surprised when the doorbell rang and the dearly enthusiastic laundry man was standing there glowing with all of my clean and pressed clothes. Despite having clearly told me it would be 24 hours, here they were again and clean after only 10, and he was evidently enormously proud. I have no idea why but for some reason my laundry had been singled out for 'special service.' This is not the only time I have come across such dedication and pride in laundry work, and it really makes my heart melt. A similar man, later on in Pondicherry, on returning my clothes to me, insisted I go through each item and inspect it, impeccably washed, pressed and folded, and then organised into a bundle and wrapped in paper and tied with string. Such dedication to and pride in this simple work, I find it so beautiful.
My time in the mountains of Tamil, although not quite what I had been expecting in terms of yoga study, was actually (as these things often are) a true learning experience, albeit in a slightly different way. Other than the call of Nature, I hadn't been consciously aware of what had driven me to go there in the first place - no recommendations or heresay, just a feeling that this might be the right path for my ongoing development in yoga and life. Upon leaving and realising this was not the place for me, I began to realise that I must, indeed, be looking for something, even if I had to realise this by negation. I wondered to myself whether I was, like the millions of others before me, walking the cliched path of someone who 'goes off to India to 'find themselves'' But, try as I might, I couldn't make this glove fit. Well, not in the sense that I was expecting some thunder-and-lightening moment of realisation where I uncover a new and totally different Arianna underneath. Actually I am happy with who I am and where I am going - and all I think I am looking for is an environment which can nurture my ongoing development in life and support my study and practise of yoga (which, to me, are one and the same). It really seems to be that simple. Which is when I realised that, whilst there might be certain places which appear to be more conducive to this nurturing, really this place is everywhere. I deeply know, but sometimes just need to remind myself, that the truest and most nourishing yoga practise takes place every minute of every day in any place. And so, whilst these days of my travelling time seemed to be more characterised by moving from place to place as a tourist - I had a heady week of temple trailing ahead of me - it was simply up to me to make sure I bring my yoga into all of this, not just leaving it on my sticky mat in the mornings.
But, of course, I am human, and I forget. It's just so much easier in an ashram when someone enforces yur schedule, tells you when to eat and does all the cooking, makes you go to bed early and get up before sunrise, gives you no other option than to be quiet and reflective. So I decided to make a few practical decisions to keep me embedded in my yoga whilst on the Tamil temple trail. What better way to start than with the YAMAS and NIYAMAS, the first two paths of Patanjali's Ashtanga Yoga (a set of 5 'restraints' and 5 'observences' which together make up something akin to a moral code for living)? I figured if I worked with one a week, that would see me through most of my time in India. Although I've spent time contemplating them before, I've never dedicated myself to each one in turn for any period of time. Seemed like a simple way to relly get to know them. Decision. Starting today, YAMA number one: AHIMSA, non-violence (to all sentient beings, including oneself, in thought and intention as well as in action).
All was going well. And then I found my bedmates. Cockroaches. Little brown ones. Yummy. To be fair, I was paying only 290 rupees for my cell, complete with Indian toilet and cold bucket shower (don't you just love them?), and it had seemed quite clean, but nonetheless, what human doesn't autmatically go onto autopilot 'exterminate' at at the sight of them? Naturally, I jumped and squirmed and off scurried the little crusty beasts into the cracks in the bedframe, out of sight and out of reach. From somewhere in the deep recesses of my spirit I was able to let them go, off into their own space and out of my head. God bless earplugs and silk sleeping bag liners, by the power of which, somehow, I managed to drift off into a world of amazingly sound sleep. And so the little buggers were saved, rather more by the faulty woodwork than by my overriding devotion to ahimsa (sadly I admit that, could I have reached them, they might not have made it through the night). But I can't help but think that something might have been working with me, giving me a little push in the right direction of absolute ahimsa, even in the most difficult situations. Apparently this is how you simply let everyone and everything simply be in their own space. You just do.
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