O Two...O How I Appreciate You

Jeff asked after my first post, “What do I smell?” which gave me the idea that I should paint a picture of what it is like to live and practice here. 

Let me say upfront that coming to Pune for a month is a HUGE gift – to myself and for my students – and I’ll share another post about the nature of the classes and practice time.   Fundamentally, however, it is challenging for those of us who like fresh air – and who doesn’t?

Now, you might be imagining a yoga retreat in a tropical and quiet urban oasis, and I IMAGINE that it was like that when the Iyengars first built their home and the Institute in the ‘70s.   

Today this area, called Model Colony, is bustling with traffic.  There are remnants of beautiful old mansion properties and highly stylized modern ones amidst older, slightly crumbling structures, newer apartment buildings and abandoned properties.  Several universities are nearby, and modern shopping enterprises reside side by side with specialty “mom and pop” shacks along the sides of roads -- major and minor --selling anything from ironing services and holy day flower chains to fresh fruit, kitchen wares, groceries, breakfast and chai. 

The Institute driveway itself is nicely landscaped with plants and trees which does make it greener in a sea of concrete buildings, but whether in class, practice or observation, it's impossible to escape the sounds and smells of the traffic as the windows are all open.  The many overhead fans in the hall keep the air moving which helps a bit.  

Most of us who come to study here live in the neighborhood of the Institute.  Our days start early, with a 2-hour class at 7 am three days a week, followed immediately by a 3-hour practice.  Two days there is a 2-3-hour class at 9:30 am with a long break until a late afternoon practice.   And one day a week we practice first, and then have an evening pranayama class.  My flat mates and I leave at 6:30 to walk to the Institute, and at that hour the air is fairly cool and the pollution is sometimes noticeable, BUT, we only have about 5 blocks of traffic to walk in as we can walk through this delightful park. 

Sadly for our lungs, the park is closed from 11-4, so we negotiate our way home through busy streets like this one:

Once home our apartment host’s chef makes us a delicious and healthy lunch from the veggies and beans she has shopped for the day before.  

We then either study, take care of errands and rest before returning to the Institute for either a late afternoon or evening class or an opportunity to watch other classes taught for locals including the Medical Class.  Unfortunately, we can’t count on walking home through the park at night, so our trip home looks like this:

My local sources attest that from four years ago, the air quality has gone from bad to worse.  The pollution is quite literally visible and noxious…smog, motor pollution, smoke from trash burning… and the lack of monsoon season in the region means that that “freshening up” of the atmosphere didn’t happen.   On the busier streets, it burns the eyes and lungs and even on less major arteries, it’s very noticeable.  My activated charcoal filter mask may not be pretty, but when I walk in traffic or go out in the auto rickshaw, it's very effective.  My friends are not as happy with their scarf option.  Now if only there were a mask for the eyes!

 

I DID notice that Sunday’s air quality was noticeably better as folks are hanging out with family and there is less traffic.  We have no classes or practice that day, so it’s a great day to head to the park for walks in the morning.  

My flatmate, Farnaz, enjoying the cleanish park air with me

Another day, I'll share a bit about what the classes have been like and a few photos from the institute.  

Transformation

Hello again!

As the gentle reader may note in the previous posts from my first visit here four years ago, I was swept away by the place, the people, the new experiences.  I was head-over-heels in love with the color, the visuals of both everyday life and my excursions near and far.  I see that I felt affection for the cultural differences, in awe of the Institute and the chance to learn directly from Guruji, Geetaji, Prashantiji, and the others here, wonder at the marvels of humans in the early centuries, and finally amusement at my fumbling attempts to understand it all.  I wrote and photographed, in part, to share those moments with friends and family who were curious, and of course to help me to remember this time, as one tends to forget the primacy as time wears on.  Taken as a whole, the past posts read as a snapshot of who I was at that time, AND who I wasn't...yet.

And so the wee hours of jet lag have me pondering this notion of transformation.

In yoga, the Sanskrit word parinama has a multitude of applications and interpretations.  The basic definition is "transformation", but as Edwin Bryant points out, it also means "consequences, and can be read as pointing to the ever-changing nature of everything."

Our goal in yoga, according to Patañjali, is to still the fluctuations of the consciousness to find the true nature of our Self.  To do that we have to transform on many different levels, peeling away at the layers and obstacles to that goal until we can begin to catch a glimpse of said Self.  

To the beginning yoga student who comes to class for any number of motivations, this goal might seem overwhelming and daunting!   Thankfully, Patañjali's Yoga Sutras break it down for us.   But while there are some very helpful translations and commentaries, not to mention our wise teachers and Guru who help clarify and bring "light" to help us get there, where does one begin transformation?

I humbly submit we can begin that journey in Tadasana - Mountain Pose.

As beginners, we learn to find the shape of the pose, how to move and position the feet, legs, the torso and head and the arms.  One day, after many repetitions of that and other poses, it occurs to us that it is not merely a physical act.  We become aware how one action brings us freedom to do or create another action, while another closes that avenue.  We transform our physical awareness of the pose and our sense of our self in it.  And on and on it goes, as we discover more and more subtleties, not just of our physical body, but also the physiological, mental and spiritual experience in a pose.

Those "ah ha" moments, whether in a pose or in life, are transformation.  And while they can be gratifying, the Yoga Sutras also recommend we not get attached to that feeling.  In our practice or in class, we can use that moment as a new starting point, but in all likelihood, there will be other transformations, so we continue our study, and our life, and observe what happens...and continue transforming.

Going, Going, Goa!

Just when I was feeling so much at home here, my time has to come to an end.  While I love going abroad, what I love more is feeling AT HOME when I am abroad. Sure, in the beginning it is just finding your way around and coping with different environmental factors (the biggest challenge for me here was noise and air pollution – but the weather, which is not unlike summer in Los Altos was divine), learning how to navigate the neighborhoods, how to bargain and get locals’ prices for even the smallest things like a few pieces of fruit, how to greet people, how to get things done, and how to read body language.  

On that latter note, one of the first body language things that confused me was the Indian head shake.   On my first day, a question to a local vendor elicited a side-to-side, quick head wobble in the same plane as the shoulders:  Was that “Not sure?”, “Maybe?”, “Yes?”,  “No?”  To be sure I asked the question again, and it SEEMED to mean, “yes”, but I still had my doubts.  Sure enough, as the days and weeks passed, I saw the head wobble as a sign of acknowledgement or understanding, as ubiquitous as the American head nod.  I think.

The next thing that was challenging was English,  both understanding and being understood.  While it is clearly widely spoken here (although each state has it’s own language – 22 of which are officially in the constitution), the accents and word choices were different enough to require me to listen with concentration.  One night, when my roomie and I were hoping to get an auto rickshaw home, we repeated our destination and the local landmark 3 or 4 times, but still the driver seemed perplexed.  Suddenly I had a thought:  I’ve always been pretty good at imitating accents (just ask my children - I do a mean Hagrid), so I tried saying it with an Indian English accent.   Terrible, right?  But, don't laugh...much to my roomie's amazement the driver wobbled his head in understanding and indicated that we should climb in.  Note to self:  learn more of the local language for the next visit. Also, practice head wobble.

 To wrap things up, I took a three-day weekend to the next state down.  Goa reminds me a bit of Hawaii in its landscape and it’s more laid back feel.   From 1510 until 1961, this state was a held as a Portuguese colony, and one clearly gets that picture from the Christian names, the cathedrals and churches, and distinctive architecture.  

 

The fabulous Heather

Fellow yogini, Heather and I stayed in a hotel built adjacent to the site of Fort Aguada which guards the coast at the mouth of the Mandovi River.  We had a splendid view of one of the ramparts from our room.   A little beach walking, hill climbing, yoga practice and dining were about all we could muster our first day. 

The practice space was divine.

The second day included a little touring passed rice paddies, the capital Panaji, and a spice farm.  Mostly, we couldn't wait to get back to our beautiful resort and just hang out, read and take walks. 

Organic Spice Farm

In addition to nutmeg, pepper, cinnamon, curry leaves, cardamom, betel nut, chilis, allspice and mace, Savoi grew tropical fruits like starfruit, papaya, pineapple, bananas, coconut and jackfruit.  Best papaya I ever ate...

Signing off for now.  Thanks for coming along on my Asian ride.  Next visit here, January 2014!

Dink Ladoo

For some, the international travel experience elicits anxiety about the food.   For me, the opportunity to explore the gastronomic delights of one's environment is among the highlights of every trip.  And because eating tends to be a shared experience, having friends with a shared enthusiasm for food makes it even more fun.

First, there's Tahsha, my wonderfully ebullient flat mate, who was my daily gastronomic partner as we explored eating establishments, and learned to shop and bargain.   One of our routine stops after practice was at the Coconut Wala or vendor...with his or her cart on the side of the road loaded with big, young, fresh coconuts.  For 20 rupees (about 40 cents), coconut man rips into the green outer layer with a machete, opens a little hole in the soft flesh, and sticks in a straw.  

If you're lucky, and I have been, the coconut is full of fresh clear water, full of potassium.  Suck that down, hand the fruit back to coconut man, and he chops it in half, makes you a scraper from one side, and then scrapes up all the yummy coconut gel on the inside. 

  



I came to Pune armed with the names of friends of friends who, when I met them, were bursting with enthusiasm for their mother land, city and cuisine.   Pratap took me on a tour of the old city and markets, explained so much about the history of Pune and India, and introduced me to thalis. The Hindi word means "plate", and the DELICIOUS food is served into little dishes while different types of hot-off-the-griddle puffy and flat breads come piling on to your plate.  The servers keep bringing more and refilling your bowls...so best to come hungry!

Example of a Thali

Next was a business school friend, Vishal, who offered me a glimpse of the busy professional's family life, and introduced me to non-Indian options in the swanky Koregaon Park neighborhood and some of the most tranquil dining settings.  I went back with some of my yoga friends to my favorite, Dario's.  It was truly a breath of fresh air.

And last but not least, Prasad and Swati, who welcomed me into their home and showed me how the modern and traditional aspects of Indian life mesh.  I was so taken by Swati's cooking that she invited me over to teach me how to make a few dishes.

I accepted with enthusiasm.

  First, the super spicy and delicious Kothimbir Wadi, a cilantro-lentil flour dough that is steamed, then sliced, then pan fried crisp.  

Next was my new favorite, Dink Ladoo, a typical Maharastrian sweet that is packed with nutritious ingredients.  My host/teacher explained that it is typically made to be given to women who have recently given birth or during colder weather to give energy and warmth.

Ingredients included:

• Kharik (dry date) powder
• Shredded coconut
• Cashews, Almonds and Pistachios
• Dink 
• Khus Khus (white poppy seeds)
• Nutmeg
• Ghee
• Jaggery or other sugar

All the whole ingredients are ground to the consistency of coarse sand and combined with the ghee, then formed into large balls by hand.  The whole process was very time consuming, making me appreciate them even more. 

 Here is what Dink looks like when it comes out of the bag.  The best I can figure from looking online is that it is the edible gum of an Acacia tree in a crystalline form.

The dink is heated briefly in the ghee, and it puffs up into little styrofoam-like balls. 



Once all the ingredients were assembled and well mixed, we formed large balls by squeezing the mixture together...it's a bit like trying to form a snowball from really dry snow...it just doesn't want to stick together.  It took me at least two minutes to get a ball that looked half as good as Swati's below. 

When we were finally finished, we cleaned up and went to the market to procure the more unusual ingredients for me to take home.  Expect to see Dink Ladoo at my next dinner party!

When Life Gives You Lemons...

The last week has been one of highs and lows...on the one hand, both Geetaji and Guruji (through Abhijata) have been teaching a great deal and they are both in great spirits.  On the other hand, I am injured.  I developed an acute "tennis elbow" the third week, and by Friday and Saturday's classes with Geeta, I was only able to watch.  Watching was great, of course, and I found myself tearing up realizing how lucky I was to be have her teach us with such vigor and enthisasm.  

Still, I was feeling a little blue this week at practice.  At the encouragement of a few more senior teachers here, I made my self practice so I can learn from my injury....From what actions does the pain come?  How can I work in the poses so as not to aggravate it? what have I learned about my poses that can help me avoid causing this injury again?  It was one of my best practices here.

Today, Abhi and Guruji taught the Women's class, and while I wasn't close enough to him to hear his exact words, I got the gist and realized he was watching us closely and seeing all..... What a perfect class to end on.

As we cleaned up the Asana hall and gathered our belongings, Guruji stayed in his place near the exit, chatting with Abhi and Raya.  At last I had my chance to go and greet him.  I knelt down and bowed, and it didn't feel strange or awkward at all.  As I got up, he looked up and smiled. 


Lemonade any one?

Ellora

Sorry to back track a bit, but I do want to share a bit about Ellora -- Buddhist, Hindu and Jain temples carved from the rock between the 5th and 12th centuries.  Where Ajanta's caves were carved INTO the wall, Ellora's temples were cut from the TOP DOWN to the base...I'm no architect, but that seems like an amazing feat of skill and vision. 

Lord Shiva, shown here as Nataraja...Lord of the Dance

It was sunny, clear and already beginning to get hot when I arrived.  To walk from Temple 1-34 is to walk through the centuries...each temple showcasing the increasing skill of the carvers, demonstrating their dedication to the Buddha or the Hindu or Jain gods. Then, there was Kaliasa - a three-story complex of buildings dedicated to the Lord Shiva.  Beginning in the 8th-century, the work took 200 years to complete.  The final finished area is larger than the Parthenon and carved out of one SINGLE rock!  I'm not generally speechless, but I'm telling you, my jaw dropped when I walked in here.  


I'm not sure photos can do it justice, but here goes:

Notice the window/balcony?

ME in the Balcony Window

As at the other site, people were very interested in westerners and I was photographed a half dozen times by families who wanted to chat with me.  Behind us is the illustrated Mahabarata.

After a 2 km walk along this cliff, passing a few more Hindu temples I arrived at the Jain complex.   There were only five in all, one done in the style of Kaliasa, but much more modest in size.  What was interesting here was the level of detail was much greater, perhaps owing in part to more sophisticated knowledge about sculpting the rock.

If you'd like to read more about Ellora, click  here.

A Typical Day in the Neighborhood

It's the end of the third week, and I feel totally at home here in the little neighborhood around the Institute.  A typical class day starts with a wake up call from the feisty stray dogs in the field near our house, followed by a cup of coffee and a little bite to eat.  A short walk through a beautiful park gets me to class or practice.  In the early morning and late afternoon hours, the park is busy with local folks walking or running laps in the park.  At first it was surprising to see ladies with running shoes, and classic Indian baggy pants and long tops running or walking in groups, but now I'm the one wearing a longish kurta and scarf to go to and from class.  

The studios, offices and store of the RIMYI are located on the same premises as the Iyengar home, with little more than 10 feet separating the entries of both buildings.  The gated entry is guarded with personnel and security cameras.  We sign in, pass by the many statues of gods, including a splendid Patanjali, deposit our shoes on the patio shelf, and make our way upstairs to the big asana hall for practice or class. 

Morning class or practice tends to have to compete with rush hour noise (see a previous post for the culture of traffic here), but soon we're deep in concentration and the noise fades away.  We return to the flat around noon and typically the maid and the cook we share with the upstairs yoginis are at work.  Having a cook and a cleaner are a common and highly affordable practice here.  Unless we have some appointments or errands elsewhere, we usually have a nice home-cooked lunch and then work on notes or head out for appointments or just fun before the next class or practice.

On this day, I went to check out an artisan in the 'hood who makes batik.  These home businesses are common, and like many places here, can be hard to locate, not just because signage is small and hidden, but more importantly, because there are no street name signs.  On the advise of two Danish yoginis sporting batik "pune pants", I go to a nearby intersection, call the business number, and the gal who answers says, "Wait there, I'll come get you!" 

Ten minutes later I am in the shop which is no bigger than a walk-in closet, but full of beautiful fabric.  Out back, the workers paint, wax, dye and sew.

After I place my order for two shirts (sorry students, I'm still not ready for "Pune" pants!), I see a couple of gorgeous batik Ganeshas hanging on the wall...I can't resist!  

Some quick background: It is said that Lord Ganesha was created by goddess Parvati, consort of Lord Shiva, out of sandalwood paste.  She had him stand guard at her door while she bathed, so when Lord Shiva returned and Ganesha didn't allow him to enter, Lord Shiva became enraged and severed the head of the child. After realizing that he had beheaded his own son, Lord Shiva declared that he would fix the situation by replacing his head with that of the next creature he spied...which turned out to be an elephant.

Here in Maharastsra, Lord Ganesha is a big deal.  He symbolizes wisdom and good beginnings and is worshiped in the home, and in formal and informal temples around town.  Believers ask his blessing for achieving success in their endeavors.  His statue or portrayal, in many artistic styles from the formal to the playful, is ubiquitous, including the walls of our apartment, car dashboards, and of course, temples.  Tonight, outside our apartment, just in front of the park entrance, a pooja was performed....you can see Lord Ganesha in the back decorated with flowers.

On a normal night, we might go out to dinner after practice or just go home and see what we can throw together, but tonight there was a celebration of the Anniversary of the founding of the Institute.  The children who take classes there preformed dance and song numbers and a fabulous play.  Guruji and family were there and the asana hall was packed.  Food was served following the performances and Guruji and Geeta were seated in the courtyard receiving greetings from their students and friends.  They both looked radiant!

Even Patanjali was dressed up for the occasion! 

My roomie Tahsha and I taking a rare photo in the Asana Hall