Inner Radiance Journey

Communal Generosity

“And now hug everyone around you!” Thus ended the first yoga class my partner and I attended in Ubud, Bali which was taught by a native instructor.  The ensuing exuberant embracing filled the air with communal prana and released laughter. Though the class was taught in a Western-style yoga studio to mostly Western students, the feeling of community created at the end was distinctly Balinese. I left with a smile on my face, enjoying the warm feeling from this unique experience.

The second Balinese-style yoga class we attended took place in a large hall which doubled as the community’s athletic gym [where just previously we had played a rousing game of badminton]. Sixty or so Indonesian people, of all ages, filled the space. There were no yoga mats and no special dress code. Soft chanting music played from the large speakers on the sides of the room. The Balinese instructor, equipped with a head mike, began the class with a silent shaking meditation. As he moved to a tall referee chair to instruct in the native language, a woman took the stage to demonstrate the opening stretching poses. We gradually moved into one long surya namaskar, holding each pose for one minute or more. Closing poses followed, after which we settled into a long savasana. The music was soothing, the massive fluorescent lights dimmed, and though we were indeed lying in a slightly stuffy and sweaty gym, it felt as inviting as lying outside under the dusky breezy sky.

After savasana we were quickly roused to a seated position where it seemed natural to remain in a quiet meditative space and perhaps end with pranayama or chanting of the Gayatri Mantra [which every Balinese Hindu is very proud to recite!].  Not so! Seconds after sitting up, loud and raucous laughter jolted us back into the room. Two particularly jolly men were quickly ushered to the stage to exhibit the art of laugher yoga. Slowly our dumfounded stares did dissolve into laughter.

After sitting laughter, the class flowed up for standing laughter. The movement helped to keep the laughter going, as did the affectionate jostles from the instructors and neighbors who could sense our awkwardness. The laughter session ended, and we all stood in Tadasana, facing the front of the room. Okay, maybe this was where we chanted and gave our final blessings? 

Not so still!  A new song was chosen, the volume turned up, and suddenly the whole room burst into song and dance! We heard the words ‘satchidananda’, and ‘namaste’, but otherwise the music could have been anything pumping at the local night club. The dance moves intensified as the music changed, and then, on some cue, people joined hands to form small chanting/dancing/jumping circles all over the gym floor. The feet moves were similar to basic bhangra moves, matching the distinct sound of tablas in the music. On another cue, hands were separated and individually thrown into the air to clap or gesticulate in beat with the words. The circle dance then vigorously commenced, much more laughter was shared, and exhausted, we concluded with a final spirited chant where we pumped our fists into the air.

Though we didn’t hug to end this class, I could feel the warmth created from the bright communal energy that was generated and generously shared. I left with a smile in my heart, feeling a little more connected to the open and welcoming community we have found a home in.

Bali Energy

Bali is so different from any place I have visited so far! (I have yet to post a blog on Japan, will come soon).

I feel a very different, and vibrant, energy here. Jeff says I have found my 'mojo'. I feel involved, part of something, busy even! And I've only really been here 10 days. There is definitely something here in Ubud that I resonate with. That sounds new-agey but I don't know how to explain it better right now. But I do know that I feel closer to my inner truth in certain places than others. I am grateful to have found that here.

I am staying in a guest house called Brata 1, near a hip yoga joint called Kafe. Brata was a find. I looked all over Ubud to find a place for $10/night and finally found this one. At first I figured I would only be there 2 nights and then find something quieter and nicer. But for the first time at a guesthouse, the hospitality has really drawn me in and I don't want to leave. The staff there are very energetic, like to keep tabs on their guests, provide a home-cooked breakfast and are genuinely fond of travelers.

The street I am on is quite busy but has all the conveniences I could ask for. A place to refill water, a place for internet, vegetarian food, a tailor, laundry place...I haven't been in a place this convenient since the beginning of traveling. To not have to search for daily life necessities feels rejuvenating - and provides time for other things- like blogging, contemplating, reading.

And of course, yoga! So much to choose from here!I have tried out 3 different places...a few more left in the next couple of days.

And the biggest news is that Jeff and I will be teaching a Partner Yoga class here in September! And October! I was able to get in the last minute for the one in September and am not planning ahead for October. The best part of this was designing the poster and walking all over town advertising. :) A very good way to become familiar with a new town.

A Connection

The most memorable parts of the journey thus far have been those people I have deeply connected to. Two of these people happen to of Japanese heritage. Random? Maybe not!

Chandrashekar was the first - not a typical Japanese name, but then he has been living in India for the past 25 years. We met him among the coffee plantations of Coorg in the state of Karnataka. We arrived at our accommodations in Coorg, called Honey Valley, in the evening after a very uncomfortable journey, and were initially were quite disappointed at how forlorn the place looked and how dismal our room was.  

As we sat in the communal dining room, with 4 books around us, planning our escape early the next morning, Chandrashekar approached us, bending over to look us straight in the eyes, and exclaimed that we were both Japanese! Could he join us for dinner?

I felt an instant connection with Chandrashekar (he is the only other person I have met who has the same kind eyes as Jeff). He seemed to connect with us also, even after he found out that I wasn't Japanese. We decided to stay on, since we knew we didn't meet people like him everyday (and our room turned out to not be so bad, the surrounding lands were beautiful, the food amazing, and the other visitors also very interesting). 

Chandrashekar had come to Coorg on a summer holiday from Tamil Nadu, where he lived near the Ramana Maharishi ashrams in Tiruvannamalai. He had a gentle presence, with those keen and kind eyes always focused on us during conversations. We initially assaulted him with questions, we were sure he would be the right one to answer them. He held off answering them, yet we kept on, even after he explained that he had met Americans like us who weren't really ready for the knowledge he could impart. Persistence paid off, however, and by our third meal together Chandrashekar began to indeed impart his knowledge. 

His philosophy of life was to remain quiet in thoughts, not action, and be open to whatever may come along. There was no need to try and make it all happen, because it would most likely not happen that way anyways. It was necessary to simply trust that there was a plan out there, and this plan would find us if we remained open and quiet inside.

This reminder of the notion of surrender was timely. On the bus ride up to Coorg, I had been really out-of-sorts about all the things that I hadn't accomplished on this trip so far. I spent a lot of the ride trying to figure out how to be in the right place at the right time to move along my progress. As it turned out, I did end up being exactly where I was supposed to be, and all the anxiety spent, and shared with Jeff, wasn't ultimately needed. 

We continued to have conversations with Chandrashekar during our 2.5 day stay in Coorg. I felt a peace developing inside of me that I hadn't felt during the 4 weeks spent in Ashrams. Was this what it felt like to Just Be?

At the end of our stay, Chandrashekar accompanied us on our jolting jeep ride down to the bus stand. During this ride he casually passed us a little journal as a parting gift - a lovely journal filled with handwritten thoughts to guide us along during the remainder of our journey. A journey which will undoubtedly last the rest of our lives.

I look at this journal often, remember Chandrashekar, and try find some quiet inside, no matter how chaotic the outer world is at the time. 

Leaving India

Leaving India was a hard decision. I wasn't sure what exactly I wanted from the journey there, yet I had the sense that I hadn't found IT during our 3 months spent on the southwestern coast.

My partner Jeff and I went back and forth, and had equally compelling reasons to stay and go. We had gotten more used to the Indian lifestyle, liked the apartment we had found in Mangalore, had family were really liked in the same city, I was really enjoying speaking Hindi, and the food was fabulous. But something was feeling a bit stuck.

Were we staying in India to prove we could? To wait for some sort of sign for what would come next in life? To really understand what my connection was to India, a place I had visited 8 times now? Yes, I suppose, to all of these questions.

In truth however, we were somewhat burnt out. Maybe I felt tired, but life in my motherland didn't feel as easy as it had initially. There is a lot more I can say about this, but my initial writing didn't capture the essence, so I'll have to think on it some more.

So we have moved on, and are now in Singapore, heading to Japan tomorrow. As soon as we got on the plane from Bangalore, I felt a very weird sense of re-entering the world. A lot of what I had experienced washed over me, and I realized much of it was unprocessed as of yet. I felt as if I had emerged from a bubble, a very raw and in-your-face and all-encapsulating bubble.

We chatted over breakfast in the Singapore airport, and discovered we both had been mulling over the same question: was it possible to evaluate experiences as moving you closer or father from your center, your alignment, your truth? And if this was possible, where did our journey to India fall in this spectrum?

It was difficult to provide an in-depth answer, given the consecutive overnight journeys, but my first response was that the journeying we had done so far just 'felt right'.

And even right now, sitting here at this internet cafe, the journey continues to just 'feel right'. Righty-o, onward then.

Traveler vs. Tourist

All streets in the tourist part of Fort Cochin were lined with men languidly leaning out of shops calling out “Hallo!”, “Madam!”, “Miss, come take a look!”, or more creatively, “Konnichiwa!”. Conversation was not possible when walking along these areas, interruptions were guaranteed. Once out of the shopping area, the heckle baton was passed on to the auto-rickshaw drivers. Heads and necks straining out of their vehicles, they would follow our path and ask if we needed a Ferrari, wanted to tour the Palaces, Synagogue, Jain temple, needed anything, anything at all? Hopeful ones would call out at our receding backs “If not now then later?” Although our homestay was located outside the main tourist sprawl, any foray outside was subject to at least 4-5 desperate requests for auto-rickshaw service.

Feeling singled out and frustrated, we turned to defensive tactics: ignore, confront, and complain. Ignoring brought more persistence and louder requests, confronting brought pitying smiles and resentment, and complaining brought indifference. Avoidance was next, we tried different routes in and out of our Homestay. Our tourist beacon was bright however; we were always found.

Resistance towards the drivers was creating strife; we softened and began dialogues with the offenders. Surely we could come to an understanding? A few confided – if we could just agree to be taken to a shop, just for a mere five minutes, it would mean a new uniform for them [we later learned that drivers were given 100 rupees by certain shopowners to just bring a tourist to their shop, whether or not they purchased anything]. If we would agree to Cochin sightseeing, it would mean points towards a free litre of petrol. Hesitant to act of out obligation or pity, we continued to express our desire to see the ‘real side’ of the town. These dialogues eased tensions a bit, yet we still felt off.

And then we met Jithu. Jithu struck up conversation with us one evening over dinner, inviting us to join his table as he sipped pre-dinner chai. Jithu was, of course, an auto-rickshaw driver… but his vehicle was currently in the shop! He offered to show is some local sights, by foot, after our meal. That night we toured the area around our homestay; the majestic and unique heritage houses, an ancient banyan tree, and the local salon, where Jeff received a quick cut.

Over the next few days Jithu, our self-appointed tour guide, proudly showed us the known and less well-known parts of his city. Jeff later referred to Jithu as a ‘kind soul’; through this kind soul’s eyes we were able to experience the ‘real’ Fort Cochin.

 
 

In Loving Memory

On May 16, 2009 my Tayaji, papa’s elder brother, passed away in his sleep. He was living alone at the time, in a flat located very close to his daughter and her family.

What I knew of Tayaji was gained through brief visits in Delhi and stories told by his children and grandchildren. By all accounts he was a very devoted family man and lived his life in the same independent, self-reliant, and loving way that my Papa does.

I have been trying to find other words to write about this loss, but am at a loss. My papa captured it best in an email he wrote to those Tayaji left behind:

“You know, at the end of the day, with all our misgivings, it is parental and sibling love that sustains and carries us forward. May his soul rest in peace and may you all have the strength to endure his loss.”

Today my cousin Arvind, living in London, sent pictures of the last time he had seen his father – just 2 days before he passed away. He was traveling to China for business and decided to stopover in India before his business trip, rather than later.

Here are those pictures, and Arvinds words: “He is still with us watching us all from up there & showering his blessings on us all.”

Living Independently in India

Our first taste of independent living outside of the U.S. came in the form of a bright and well-located flat near the beach in Candolim  [a small town in Northern Goa]. The flat had all the necessary features: a sunny and fully functioning kitchen, a balcony overlooking the neighborhood to sip morning chai, and an ocean-view rooftop deck, perfect for yoga.

What paradise! Every day held the promise for us to explore the city as ‘residents’, not ‘vacationers’. We soon became familiar with the lay of the land. The best place to buy produce locally was a simple market with two vendors, one of who would slip extra produce into the bags of customers he recognized. Across the street was the dry good store owned by a jolly Bombayite, who could quickly dispense any required quantity, quickly tally the purchases by hand, and squeeze in a conversation before attending to the many other customers clamoring at the counter. For milk or fresh bread, all that was required was waking up by 6AM to flag down the ‘bread man’ on his bike, who made his presence known by a particular toot of his horn (the same toot that has been used by the bread-man in South Goa!).

For an air-conditioned internet experience, the best location was a twenty minute walk from home, and conveniently located next to Viva Goa, renown for their pomfret and kingfish curry, and where the locals dined. And a long online session could be rewarded with a local Goan treat from the “La Confiserie’ on the walk back home.

The best treats, however, were the conversations and interactions we had with members of our neighborhood. The neighborhood had large Portuguese style houses on either side of a narrow dirt lane, a lane which led westward from the main street in the city towards the beach. The house in which we occupied one of the two flats on the second floor was owned by Francis and Filomena Lobo. Filomena’s brothers and mother owned and/or occupied the remaining four houses our side of the lane, with one of the houses being the very place Filomena and her siblings had been born and raised.

The neighborhood soon became familiar with our presence and excursions during our 3-week stay in their enclave. Open from the beginning to offer advice on how to navigate the surrounding area, they soon also became open in offering their homes for morning and afternoon chats. By the end of the stay we were regularly visited by the kids in our apartment, and invited to play cricket, our first time playing the game, and definitely the first time playing a sport with palm trees and cacti as obstacles!
Living within these open hearts and warm smiles while being so far from ‘home’ created an infinite space for inward and outward explorations. The real journey has begun...

The house we were staying in [taken by Jeff Gima]

A view from the balcony.

 Rooftop yoga at sunset

Jeff and Francis, one of the most efficient landlords I have met

The Lopes family [taken by Jeff Gima]

  Jessryl Lobo, ready to take on 4th grade

Yoga in Action

Delhi was different from the last visit 8 years ago. All over the city there were signs of the practice of yoga! All the things learned so meticulously in our training and classes in Denver are second nature to Delhites. There isn’t a formality to the practice, it just happens as part of the day and week and months and years.

A couple of the scenes I captured: the woman practicing nadi shodhana in the early morning hours, with a yoga class taking place in the background, and the auto-rickshaw in constant blessing “Om Namah Shivaya”.

A couple of the scenes will forever be in my memory: sitting at my Tayaji’s (papa’s brother) ceremony and solemnly chanting the Gayatri Mantra, listening to the heated discussion about the Bhagavad Gita between my Bua (papa’s sister) and her driver, and most precious, listening to my Mamiji (mummy’s sister-in-law) share her new life philosophies and activities, a transformation she largely attributes to her practice of Osho meditation.

 

Reinvention

The last time I had seen my cousin Geetanjali in Delhi, she was busy with high school studies and living in an extended family that buzzed with constant activity. All family members, including both grandparents, centered their day on the household, culminating in large family meals for lunch and dinner. Dynamics have since changed. Her grandfather has passed on. Her elder sister has married and moved to her husband’s family house. Her father is busier at work and work events, and her mother has found a calling in being an organizer of home and business renovations, a growing hobby that keeps her out of the house for long periods of time. Her grandmother is not completely adjusted to the time home alone, but in true Bajaj spirit, is making do with what she is presented with.

More independent and old enough to drive, Geetanjali is also finding change. After working for two years in a corporate world, she declared that she wasn’t finding the opening in herself professionally that would move her career along, and if it hadn’t happened in that span of time, it wasn’t bound to happen later. She has since left her job and enrolled in French language and theatre classes.

Unusual choices for a kid raised in a traditional Indian household, I broached the topic with her mum, Meenakshi bhabhi, during a car ride between her errands. With characteristic motherly affection, she declared that Geetanjali had worked very hard for two years, yet the work didn’t resonate with her. Even though her current activities could be seen as random, Geetanjali was “reinventing” herself, and would find direction soon enough.

I shared this with Geetanjali later - she was pleasantly surprised and in full agreement with this apt description.

I have since used the same word to describe my inward journey to those I meet. Thank you Geetanjali and Meenakshi bhabhi for the inspiration!

Geetanjali is in the middle, to her left is her mum's sister, and to her right her cousin.

Tranquil waters of Agonda

Long sandy beaches, calm warm waters, friendly people, good food... what better place to start a journey in India?

Agonda isn't on the tourist circuit in Goa. If it hadn't been for the Sri Kali Ashram located here, it wouldn't have been on our circuit either.

There is certainly a lot of charm to living in a coastal town. The steady waves create a lulling backdrop to all activities: resting on a hammock, practicing yoga, taking a walk, falling asleep. The ocean is also an alluring meeting point - to join friends for a meditative early morning swim, or to rehash the events of the day while watching the colors of the sunset light up the sky.

These beaches had an extra charm not found in the US - the irresistible and friendly beach dogs. My partner Jeff has a wonderful post (with pictures) on our furry friends.

The waters and beaches of Agonda were absolutely the best part of the two-week stay there.