A simple Diwali in Dharamkot

A selection of the goodies on sale

Three days ago a large supply of fireworks and crackers was delivered to the village. Cardboard boxes of various sizes in bright packaging promising excitement and fun.

It was a bit of a happening: boys  of all ages crowded round as they were unloaded from a small pick-up van and displayed on a folding table outside the general store.

Whenever I passed by I would see clusters of children chattering excitedly, maybe spending a few rupees pocket money on sparklers or crackers, whilst dreaming of the larger rockets and bangers.

This was the only Diwali related commercial activity I noticed in Dharamakot, save advertisements in the newspapers entreating housewives to upgrade their kitchen appliances. Preparations were simple, householders stringing garlands of plastic flowers across doorways and paper lanterns in porches.

Late morning I was invited into the Sanctuary, a holistic spa and workshop space by the co-owners Anand and Gora.  I had met them a couple of days ago and we had chatted for ages about India and holistic therapies.

In a fusion representative of their respective ancestries (Gora is French, Anand is from Pune) we shared genuine espresso and traditional Indian sweets made with ghee and jaggery, absurdly unhealthy but an enjoyable treat. I also enjoyed the company of Kala, Anand’s precious pet Chihuahua who had been ordered on the internet and shipped to Delhi by breeders in Thailand.  

The shopkeepers and café owners of Dharamkot were in buoyant mood. At the fruit and veg stand I submitted my usual request for two bananas and held out a ten rupee note which is the regular price. The grocer’s eyes twinkled as he picked out three bananas. Happy Diwali! He laughed as he wrapped them in newspaper.

I checked in with Mohan who single handedly runs Cool Talk Corner where I eat most evenings, to see whether or not he would be opening. Today early closing. I have to make fire and puja. Can make money every day but Diwali one day only!

Instead I visited the Trek and Dine, I hadn’t eaten here before as there is a large Bob Marley poster on the wall, which is traveller code for You can smoke marijuana here.  I noticed a few other refugees from Mohan’s place, but chose a quiet table to myself.  In the street below random crackers were being launched, setting off  car alarms at regular intervals.

Back at Paul's Guest House I had a dilemma. My room really needed cleaning, I had been looking out for Jatinda who does the housekeeping all day.

Dusk was falling and festivities were about to start and I finally saw him in the common lounge as he was locking up and preparing to leave.

Happy Diwali!  I began. Jatinda smiled broadly and returned the greeting.

I'm so sorry to ask you now, but is it possible to get my room cleaned now? I ventured, embarrassed to be asking.

Yes! I do it now! In a moment Jatinda was on his feet.

I fetched some clean linen and followed him to my room on the first floor. I was baffled, taken aback by Jatinda's continued good mood. I felt sure that the timing of my request was unreasonable and inappropriate, but he clearly did not feel the same and I was deeply touched by his natural joy, happiness and generosity.

We gazed out from my balcony together as the sun set and lights began to twinkle on the hillside. Tonight all of India is celebrating!  Jatinda declared with pride and satisfaction. I thanked him effusively for his service and he left to join his family.

NASA photograph of India at Diwala from space

What should I do? I had three options. I could head into neighbouring Bhagsu village where there were two Hindu temples and get fully stuck in to the merriment. Or I pop back into Dharamakot; everyone would be out on the streets I felt sure of it. Or I could squirrell myself away and observe the celebrations from the guest house.

It was an easy choice, the view from my balcony was so lovely. I was able to watch locals visiting a tiny shrine, lighting the tiny clay lamps that give Diwali it's literal meaning (Sanskrit for row of lights).

As the night sky darkened the village lights appeared bright and cosy and then the celebrations really began.

Fireworks and crackers were fired off from all directions with unrelenting intensity. This in turn caused dogs to bark, baby goats to bleat and sulphurous smoke to seep in to my room even though I had closed the windows and shutters. It was really, really noisy. The fireworks continued into the night, past midnight I am told although amazingly I fell asleep at around ten pm.

I remember my first Diwali in India, in 2004. I was living in Mysore, studying astanga vinyasa yoga. I had arrived in early October and as such was present to a string of Hindu festivals, Navaratri, Dusshera and then Diwala. In addition to the fireworks and so on, vast speakers the size of  small dwellings were transported around the city on trucks decorated with flashing bright lights, pumping amplified devotional music and hindi hit songs throughout the night.

It was all too much, the noise was driving me insane! I used  my emergency credit card to book into an expensive ayurvedic spa retreat twenty kilometers away from the city, to be soothed by clean, cool cotton sheets and tranquility.

This year I have been holding my friends and the community of Glastonbury in my mind and heart. As Diwali is celebrated on the new moon in October, so is lunar samhain. It is a powerful time to be present in town as the veil thins and darkness is animated in ritual, song and ceremony.

It is a night of mayhem and revelry and generally I stay home for that one too. I am happy to be here where the light is celebrated.

Jyotir namaha!
May the inner light shine always

Jennifer

Heaven and hedonism in Incredible India

Colourful blessings for a safe passage

I take a daily walk into the forest that is starting earlier and earlier. I used to set out around four pm, returning as the sun begins to set. Then it was after lunch, then mid-morning.

Tomorrow I plan to get going immediately after breakfast. It’s that good. Walking in nature restores me on all levels. I always return feeling calmer, centred and uplifted.

There is a specialness to this landscape that seems to be healing and nourishing me and I relish every moment.

This walk takes about an hour. I timed myself  using the clock in the Himalaya Tea Shop in Dharamkot where the auto-rickshaw drivers drink chai while waiting for business. This is the start of the walk. Take the level path to the left of the water reservoir and keep going. 

The path begins broad and smooth and from time to time I have to step aside to allow tourist vehicles to pass, mostly mini-buses containing Indian families, who seem to prefer to be bussed about rather than walk.

Today I passed a pair of maroon robed monks who had stopped to enjoy the view and were sharing tea from a flask. A little further along an ageless brown skinned Gaddi shepherd in hand knitted sweater and woollen cap was skillfully herding his goats.

Furry forest guides

I received the blessing of a tortoiseshell butterfly dancing ahead of me in the warm, bright sunshine. Above, a stunning blue feathered bird with exquisite long tail feathers sang to his mate who responded from across the valley. 

You can’t get far on four wheels, paved concrete yields to lumpy stones and the path narrows and bends.  As you penetrate the forest you will notice basic dwellings where  Buddhist monks retreat intosilence  solitude to meditate for days, weeks and months at a time. Neatly printed signs request ‘Quiet Please’. 

An abundance of coloured prayer flags decorate the passes, impossibly strung between sturdy pines.  I was told that they carry blessings and good wishes for travellers, which is a beautiful thought.  Below on the forest floor, meticulously arranged stones and rocks form rudimentary stupa that have a peaceful quality. 

As I headed deeper into the forest, I passed a stone-cutter working with hand tools, Namaste was our mutual greeting. At the weekend, this patch is busy with noisy laughing school boys undetaking a supervised litterpick.

A little further along I was joined by a friendly pair of doggy guides who bounded ahead joyfully, disappearing finally up a steep bank to pursue an irresistible scent.

My special place in the mountains

Finally the view I had come for revealed itself: snowy peaks across a plunging valley and a scattering of rocks to sit on and absorb the panorama.

I bring myself here to meet the mountains, their presence so powerful speaks to me and fills me with something... beyond words.

I sit here a good while, tilting my face into the sunshine and sighing deeply as relaxation and bliss flow through me.

This is Dev Bhoomi, land of the Gods. Himachal Pradesh is Shiva and Parvati’s lovers’s spot, they meet here, they marry each other, they have sons, all in this area, explained Raju. Quick minded, energetic and charismatic, Raju manages the day to day running of Paul’s Guest House where I have taken a room.

I was showing him photographs taken on my walk and speaking of my rapture: I feel so peaceful and happy, I just have to take that walk every day to sit with the mountains.

Raju nodded and gave a broad smile, You feel something spiritual when you come, and your feelings come like WOW! I am happy now! 

Raju tells it as it is

He continued enthusiastically: People recognize special place. Some people stay for two months, three months, a lot of people come longterm, because they want peace, they want to think about himself, they want to be happy, they want to ponder his way.

Despite his obvious passion for Dharamkot, Raju was preparing to relocate in the coming days. He had been summoned south to spend the winter (November – March) tending bar in Goa. Party season was about to begin.

How do you like Goa? I asked.

Raju’s answer was blunt; In Goa you can’t hear your soul. The peoples who come Goa they want to enjoy, they don’t know what is real peace. They dance, they smoke, they drink beer, listen to noisiest music, girls in bikinis, girls in no bikinis. Goa is a totally crazy place.

Maybe such people should think about visiting Dharmashala, I suggest.

Raju laughed loudly, shaking his head firmly in disagreement: People from Goa cannot come here! Just you call them, ‘Come here, it’s a nice place, No drinking, no smoking, no music, nothing! Just sitting on a chair, watching the hills, come come!’ Just imagine!

I appreciated Raju’s honesty and sense of humour and that he was speaking without judgement. I know Goa well and admired his versatility at being able to move so easily between two such different worlds and told him so.

He was stoical about his circumstances: This is not my personal choice, I have to earn, I want to spend most of my time here, I love here, this is my place!

I could easily picture Raju serving drinks to pleasure seekers in sunny Goa as trance music thumped from dawn to dusk. Once again I was amazed by the diversity of experiences on offer in this magical country. Open and generous enough to accept and embrace the hippies and the Tibetan refugees and to allow these communities room to grow and flourish and integrate with traditional Indian culture.

Raju's final word, borrowing the official slogan of the Indian Ministry of Tourism: This is called Incredible India, we have everything here. 

Blessings

Jennifer

A Modern Tibetan Tale - Dhagyal's Story

Moody view from the Peace Cafe

Maybe because of the surrounding mountains, the weather here in Himachal Pradesh seems so very close, powerful and dramatic. Autumn has arrived violently, with rolling thunder that vibrates through my being and lightning that cracks so sharply it would split the sky.

Today, it rained steadily all morning. I awoke early and watched the changing panorama from my bed. Dawn was multi-coloured, the sun rose red, fading to pink. Then a delicate wash of lilac coloured the sky followed by a deepening, darkening opaque grey, foretelling the weather to come.

I meandered into town for breakfast as usual; optimistically or recklessly wearing light summer clothing, defying the mood of the sky. 

I sat for some time in the Peace Café in McLLo (McLeod Ganj) one of my fave hang outs. I come for the very good coffee and friendly service and stay for the decent collection of reading material and free wi-fi.

It’s cosy inside with small tables, the smell of espresso and warm pastries. Most days it’s busy with Tibetan Buddhist monks with laptops and smart mobiles; today his Holiness the Dalai Lama is beginning a set of teachings in the Temple and I had the place to myself. 

His Holiness is loved all over town

I decided to sit out back, under a tarped bamboo roof, open to majestic mountain views. It was chilly but dry. After some time I was joined by a smiling young Tibetan. We smiled and laughed a little, two crazies who prefer to be outside! 

I love the rain! I declared.Yes! So fresh, so cleansing!  Replied my companion, who introduced himself as Dhagyal and offered to tell me his story.

Born in occupied Tibet, Dhagyal journeyed to India via Mount Kailash and Nepal at the age of twenty, leaving his village and family. He set off in 2002 with a guide and seven young men of similar age.   

In the Tibetan calendar this was the year of the horse, regarded as highly auspicious for all types of pilgrimage and travel. 

A year later the group arrived in Dharmashala. Dhagyal spoke very warmly and enthusiastically of his reception,  After coming here I get an opportunity to go to Tibetan Trust School for four and a half years. It is very special, for Tibetan newcomers to get a chance to go to school, that there wasn’t in the Chinese High Schools. 

I was curious to know more about Dhagyal’s lifestyle. Many of the older Tibetans in Dharmashala dress in traditional costume and maintain their cultural heritage producing handicrafts and cooking regional food. 

Dhagyal, 28 Painter and barrista

Dhagyal dresses in modern sporty leisure wear and works in a coffee shop. In his free time he reads and paints. With his funky haircut, slogan teeshirt, skinny jeans, Converse canvas trainers and a hoody he wouldn’t look out of place in London, New York or Paris. And this look can be seen all over Dharmashala on Tibetan youth of both sexes.

What do you like about Dharmshala? I enquired. 

Dhagyal beamed his answer:

For me it is very necessary to be here. First to improve my English, second to awaken my mind. I meet lots of foreign people for conversation and English in the coffee shop. It is very interesting and good for my future direction. 

What is your future direction? 

I can’t say, sorry!  

Me neither! We laughed together, then I paid my bill and left.

It was a fun, easy conversation. Dhagyal was easy going, relaxed and positive and care free in the best possible way; enjoying the moment without stressing about the future. He had a strong sense of himself and was committed to self-improvement. I wish him every future success and happiness.

Out in the street, the rain showed no sign of easing and in under a minute my sandalled feet were squelching wet and my cotton harem pants were soaked through. I needed to head uphill to my room in Dharamkot, two kilometers away. 

I thought about buying an umbrella to keep me dry, but I didn’t feel like spending 250 rupees and then having to carry an umbrella around India. I took a rickshaw for 60 rupees which trundled and bumped slowly along, passing locals and tourists who were appropriately dressed in waterproofs, walking boots and so on.

Winter clothes for sale: but not for me!

In the early afternoon I took a walk in the rain: leaving the UK in late September with a return date of early Feb necessitated a warm outfit for travelling. By some minor miracle of foresight I had included a light cagoule and waterproof trousers. 

It was something of a mixed blessing. As I congratulated myself on my skilful organization, I had to acknowledge that the weather was changing and while it was fun to watch the rain from a café, indulge in a rickshaw ride and splash through puddles in my waterproofs, I couldn’t envisage staying here as the weather turned wetter and colder. 

Moreover, I have been hearing the inner voice very clearly, communicating a sense that it was time to think about moving on. So no point trying to hang on here, despite my deep fondness. A week from now it will be November and the weather will definitely turn. Ironically, the place I am thinking of visiting next could well be mid-Monsoon at this time of year, so perhaps there will be no evading the rain. 

Tomorrow I will be checking out train ticketing for what is sure to be an epic journey to the southern state of Tamil Nadu, I want to go back to Auroville. 

And so it is….

Soggy blessings!

Jennifer

Deep Peace in Dharamkot

Local school children heading home

The path from  Dharamkot to McLeod Ganj is steep and stony, descending sharply with tight curves requiring one’s full attention, an exercise in mindfulness.

A smoother, broader tarmac’d  road runs roughly parallel and is the thoroughfare of auto-rickshaws and taxi cabs.

Which means that my daily journey into town and back is extremely peaceful and often solitary, save passing families of macaque monkeys foraging in the undergrowth and congregations of large black crows calling out from the tree tops.

Tall pines forest the valley below and create ample cool shade for my walk, so even at midday it is easy and comfortable. It’s a 2km trek downhill into McLeod Ganj from an altitude of 2200km at  Dharamkot and fairly strenuous on the way back up.


It's a great way to stay fit and work off the momo dumplings which are cooked and served street side all over town and are just too delicious!

How did I get here? I had a number of tips and recommendations for places to stay in Dharmashala. I was looking for somewhere quiet, in nature, out of town. A friend from home loves Bhagsu, but I had heard that there had been a lot of tourist development in recent years. A laid back tabla player I met in Rishikesh eulogized about  Dharamkot and I followed his suggestion.

Auspicious beginnings. I took a rickshaw from the bus stand and booked into the first guest house I saw. My neighbour turned out to be Hugo, a kind and sensitive Swede who I had hung out with for most of last winter in Goa. He had arrived moments before me.

No words, just mutual astonishment at the synchronicity and a HUGE hug.  Hugo had travelled from Manali and would be heading to Goa at the start of November. It was great to see him and catch up. We shared a simple supper as the sun set.

Room with a view Paul's Guest House

The following morning I took a walk through the village.  Dharamkot hosts a small number of guest houses, café-restaurants and shops. Many households offer rooms for rent, laundry services and display toilet rolls and bottled water for sale.

Yet  Dharamkot strongly retains a sense of itself as a pastoral mountain village where goats and cattle graze, children play freely and there is an all pervasive feeling of timelessness.

I quickly  realized I could upgrade my accommodation and so I did. Prices here are very affordable, I was quoted between 80 – 250  rupees for rooms and that was without trying too hard. 

I now have a wonderful room with attached bathroom and balcony and simply stunning views out across the valley to the mountains. As I write I am sitting on my bed with the windows wide open, taking in the fresh air and the deep peace. 

Sounds of nature abound, cicadas rustle, birds peep and cheep. Dogs bark in the distance and the mooing of cattle echoes across the valley. Vehicle traffic is so infrequent that every motorbike, auto or taxi is heard. 

Sleepy village life

There is space on my balcony for a yoga mat and I start my asana practice at 7:15am, so as the sun rises from behind the mountains opposite at 7.30 I receive its’ full blessing; a great way to feel energized, vivified and connected.

I like sit out on my balcony during the day, wrapped up warmly, feeling happy and contented. Counting my blessings as butterflies dance and flutter in the sunlight.

There are gorgeous walks out into the mountains, along defined and less well defined paths as well as established trekking routes to the neighbouring village of Naddi, Triund, the church of St John in the Wilderness, the waterfall at Bhagsu.

Dusk falls around 6.30pm by which time I have dined and returned to my room as the setting sun colours the mountains a rich russet. Birdsong accompanies the close of the day, it is truly beautiful.

I am relieved to have found a place that is just right for me now: a pause after the heady chaos of Rishikesh. I am feeling restored by night after night of unbroken sleep, proximity to nature and a complete lack of demands on my time.  I am living in a tranquil haven and I am grateful for my good fortune.

Approaching McLeod Ganj

Emotionally I am steadier and calmer and have had started to feel moments of joy. I am happy here and can understand how travellers might settle in longterm.

Living is easy, affordable and comfortable, if like me, you prefer life’s simple pleasures.

How long will I remain? I am gifting myself the freedom and spaciousness of not planning; right now I have every reason to stay and none to leave.

I suspect that the determining factor will be the climate; the sun is warm and bright in the day and the skies are cloudlessly blue. 

At night, temperatures fall and as winter approaches it is only going to get cooler.  Rooms are not heated; I am doing well wearing jumpers, socks and fleecy pants in bed. Last night I needed a second thick blanket.

I don’t really want to invest in heavy clothing, although I have my eye on a funky white furry hat I spotted in a bargain basket. I certainly don’t wish to suffer the cold, I probably have a couple of weeks left.

And I’m loving and appreciating every moment.

Peaceful blessings

Jennifer

Leaving Rishikesh: Heading deeper into the mystery

Boy selling flowers for Ganga puja

After two weeks I am more than ready to leave Rishikesh. I never really settled here, the opposite of what I had intended, expected and planned. I thought I would stay here until November and maybe beyond.

I was drawn here on a heart level, romanced by thoughts of Ganga Devi and the powerful Shiv-shakti resonating in the landscape. 

On a pragmatic note Rishikesh, town of seers has been the container of thousands of years of unbroken spiritual practice, undisputedly the world capital of yoga. 

A seriously devoted yogin and Indiaphile, it makes no sense that I would not find a reason to stay. Surely everything I needed was here?

And indeed I had found a great place to stay, good teachers, spiritual friendship and I was feeling very blessed indeed by the presence of Mother Ganga. I could see the beauty and depth of this amazing town in its’ ceaseless celebration of God. I have been travelling, working, studying and living abroad since the age of seventeen and know the rewards that come from committing to a place for a month or more. 

And yet, Rishikesh just didn’t feel right. I never felt really happy, relaxed or peaceful. In truth, I was confused, overwhelmed and just surviving. I gave myself two weeks time and space to adjust and observed my feelings with as much detachment as possible. 

I checked in with my friend and confidante Ruth-Anne, who was loving Rishikesh and envisioning a stay of several weeks. Tell me how you feel about this place I asked her A feeling of belonging, that I could always live here, that I have always lived here, she responded with enthusiasm and clarity. How wonderful for Ruth-Anne, and a great contrast to my experience. 

Russian Krishna devotees at Saint Seva ashram

I did everything I could to make it work. Then I realized, I didn’t want to make it work, I wanted things to flow smoothly and joyfully, surely the greatest teaching of the great river goddess herself. 

I was distressing myself and creating struggle by not accepting my feelings and wanting to know why. This question Why?  drains my emotional energy pretty fast. The trick is to unhook one's mind from the situation, to simply let go.

I chose to surrender the situation to my higher self.  I would  trust my feelings that Rishikesh wasn't right for me and prepare to leave. A new direction would reveal itself.  I would receive guidance from within, a hunch, an urge, a feeling, a synchronicity, an intuition.  Until then, I would have rest in uncertainty, not knowing and give space to the situation.

 

Contemporary spiritual teacher Andrew Cohen supports and clarifies this point of view, The directly felt and seen dimension is always going to be moving faster than your understanding of it* This idea is a great comfort, that the higher self is one step ahead and the physical mind travels at slower speeds.

Spiritual shopping galore!

My time in Rishikesh has been of benefit and I can say that I have enjoyed it and was glad I came.  Rishikesh was somewhere I had to come and experience for myself.  

I wondered how it would have been to visit twenty or thirty years ago, stripping away layers of modernization: the noisy jeeps, the innumerable gift shops, the sheer number of visitors that made the place so intense and overwhelming. 

At some point, Rishikesh would have been a calm spiritual haven: ashrams, riverbank, mountains and sky. The ideal environment for spiritual seekers. 

But the moment is always now, I can’t turn back time. Or wish for things to be other than they are. All I can do is accept what is and move forward with gratitude for what I have known here and move ahead with an attitude of optimism.

So what to do next and where to go?

I could head south, but I had a feeling that there was somewhere else in North India for me. I considered moving further up the Ganga, towards the source. Uttarkashi and Gangotri were the obvious choices. Once again, my intuition said No. I needed a complete change, a contrast from the exuberant chaos of Indian pilgrim towns. I was looking for nature, tranquility, a peaceful haven and spiritual community.

Pilgrims gather at Swarg ashram

In a flash, the answer came: Dharmashala , the seat of his holiness the Dalai Lama, spiritual leader of exiled Tibetan Buddhists. 

Amazingly, there was a direct train connection from Rishikesh, it would be a day’s journey, relatively short for India. I felt the inner uplift of excitement and arranged my ticket this morning. 

I’ve already had a bit of decision backlash, doubts and fears surfacing, beginning to persecute me:

What if I am making a mistake? Dharmashala will be crowded, noisy and dirty. I am a yogi, not a Buddhist! It will be a waste of time, money and energy.  

With practice, I am able to allow such fearful thoughts to come and go, arise and dissipate. I choose to believe that I am going to have a positive experience and wrote the following affirmations in my journal:

I am going with the flow of life

I am being brave

I am stretching and growing

I am prepared to be surprised and delighted

Only good lies before me (Louise Hay)

I am ready for this new experience

I am following inner guidance

I can’t get it wrong!

Adventure awaits!

Namaste

Jennifer

*Ken Wilber and Andrew Cohen, Guru and the Pandit, Live in Denver

 

Singing my yoga: taking music lessons in Rishkesh

This alluring sign caught my attention

I stared at the enormous electric air cooler that dominated the blue cube of a room where I have been coming daily for singing lessons. A powerful roar was emanating. How was I going to hear myself over that?

Chandra my teacher, pretty, petite and quick of mind had imported it for my comfort. I didn’t wish to appear ungrateful and refuse her kindness; I suspect she was paying money to rent it. 

In any event, it would just add another layer to the sound sandwich that is India.

Chandra teaches singing, tabla and sitar from her home close to the main Laxman Temple in Rishikesh. Access is via a set of steep, narrow concrete steps lined with saffron robed sadhus. They spend their days sitting outside with their alms bowls.  From the teaching room I could hear a very regular chink of coins being received and the ubiquitous salution Hari Om!  

We sit cross legged on a red patterned wool rug and Chandra operates a harmonium to accompany me.  I am practicing vocal exercises:  variations on scales and arpeggios Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Da Ni Sa. This takes up the entire hour.  My brain is quite tired by the end from the concentration. 

I enjoy it very much, as a teacher, it feels great to relax and receive instruction. And although Rishikesh is all about yoga and there are countless options for classes, I am well established with my daily asana and  so have the time and resources to spend on other things.

I am going deeper and deeper into bhakti yoga and kirtan and sacred singing of all types. So this a great way to improve and grow in confidence as a singer. Private tuition is extremely affordable (200 -300rs  per class) and I record the sessions onto my mp3 player so I can practice in my room or when walking about town.  

Bansi's teaching room

I have a second teacher, a brahmin, named Bansi. I would guess him to be in his seventies. He is extraordinarily youthful and energetic of spirit and has a kindly presence.

I was standing in the main square pausing in the shade a few days ago when I noticed a sign outside a men’s hair salon. 

It turns out that the barber, Rakesh,  is a longterm student of classical flute who is happy to guide new pupils to his master.

Hence daily I take myself to a second noisy room (building work below, monkey fights above) to sit on another rug (old, beige, dusty) and practice a different set of vocal exercises: mantra  or prayer.   

Bansi is very laid back. On my first day he asked me what I wanted to learn. To practice the yogic chants I had been given five years ago and to move onto longer mantra I replied. 

From a large wooden cabinet with glass doors, Bansi selected a slim book, Sivananda Ashram Daily Prayers produced by the Divine Life society. This is published locally; the ashram is located just across the river at Ram Jhula.  Another very solid harmonium was taken down and the familiar, comforting warm drone once again accompanied me.

We started at the very beginning of the book, with a wonderful guru stotrum which is spoken at morning prayers.  Then we practice the classic mantra that will be familiar to most yogins and bhaktas: Poornamadah, Sahana vavatu, Sarvesham swastir vavatu, Tryambakam yajamahe  and more. 

Guruji!

I love the latter, after ten repetitions or so I begin to feel fire in my belly! This is also a favourite of Bansi who tells me with smiling eyes This mantra to Shiva is meant to save your life- from Devils!  Useful!

These sessions are so very helpful, in terms of correcting anglicisms that have crept in my pronounciation.  And in reminding me of correct intonation patterns.  I love the sing song lilting melodies, Bansi sings with a great lightness and obvious, easy joy and he is very adept at tabla too.

So my days are pretty full with lessons and self-practice.  I have started attracting more singing opportunities: the law of attraction in action. 

A young Israeli guy spotted my guitar bag and invited me to a night time jam session at the Bombay Guesthouse. I poked my head in during the day to check it out and was met by a wall of ganja smoke and giggles, so I probably won’t go, but I was happy to be asked.

I bumped into someone I met in Arambol in Goa, like me a health freak. She is staying at the Pyramid Guest House on account of their sprouts and spirulina. She thought it would be cool to start a singing satsang on the beach by Ram Jhula. I agreed, it was a good idea. 

Tiny temple courtyard where womens bhajans are hosted

Finally, I was walking past a tiny blue temple heading out of town last night as dusk was falling. I was mesmerized by the enchanting sounds of a women’s bhajan group.

I scrambled down some stairs following the sounds of bliss. In a small covered courtyard in front of a shrine were women of all ages, from two to eighty two, chanting kirtan together as the male priest performed puja.

 

I was beckoned in and handed a large pair of manjira hand cymbals. How amazing! I couldn’t follow the chants but it was enough to be present and so there I sat, on a cool stone floor, in the nurturing presence of such beautiful women; sisters, cousins, aunties, daughters and granddaughters, chiming and clapping with love in our hearts as the sun went down.

I am looking forward to many more musical adventures as my time in India unfolds.

Om shanti, shanti, shanti

Jennifer

When travelling, new friends can be angels

Gratitude for friendship

My friends in the UK are spiritual allies and confidantes, especially in Glastonbury where the town functions as a loose sangha  or community of seekers.

I am grateful for the ongoing support, acknowledgement and inspiration of the many wonderful Avalonions I have met and especially those few for whom the days and weeks have deepened into months and years of knowing and relationship.

Like precious jewels, these friendships have been polished with understanding, tolerance, deep listening and mutual respect. I cherish my friendships.

Out on the road, so to speak in India,support from home comes largely through cyberspace and also the power of intention, I can remain connected to my friends through holding them in my mind and heart, sending a vibration of loving-kindness, of sincere wishing for their highest wellbeing and happiness, whatever the situations and circumstances.

I know that they are doing the same for me and it is a great feeling to rest into the awareness with profound gratitude.

Part of leaving home for extended periods is about trusting that it is safe to leave, that I am sufficiently internally well-resourced to take care of myself and that I am Divinely protected: the higher, loving forces of the cosmos are assisting me at all times.

And usually when travelling I will meet special people,  special in the sense that they seem to be the right person, in the right place, at the right time with exactly the right form of help or guidance that is required.

I had been ill for a couple of days. No fuss or drama, a digestive disorder that came and departed swiftly. On one level I might attribute it to the unrefridgerated, unpasteurised Yak cheese I sampled in a local bakery (pungent, creamy and delicious!)

From another perspective my immunity was weakened due to travel, change of climate and diet, lack of sleep and so on and my wonderful intelligent body was imposing a full stop and bed rest. What else to do but surrender?

I was semi-delirious and slept well, drifting in and out of consciousness as the nine day Navratri festival reached a climax. Yards from my room in the Sant Seva Ashram, an enormous effigy of Durga was lowered into the Ganga with an insane amount of fireworks, bells, clapping, chanting and devotional ecstacy. I could Emotionally as well as physically I was feeling exhausted, scared, lonely and fearful and tearful.

Grace and beauty: Ruth- Anne

The following morning, Ruth - Anne, a beautiful and graceful american who I had befriended on my first day in Laxman Jhula, knocked on my door to find out how I was doing.

Her eyes were clear, bright and friendly and she held me in a genuine loving presence, bathing me in her open, soft awareness. This was my medicine: a simple, yet profound act of caring and kindness.

I was deeply touched that this new acquaintance would pause her day, take time to show up for me, an act of true generosity. It was a tender moment, I felt my heart swell and receive the warmth and nurture being offered.

Ruth-Anne was my angel, I honour and thank her for her timely action. Maybe we are all angels for each other?

May we always continue to experience the gifts of friendship wherever we are !

Jennifer

 

First few days in Rishikesh

View from my room Saint Seva ash

These first few days in Rishikesh have been a gentle exploration of possibilities, walking the town, its ghats and bridges on foot. Peeping into ashrams, noticing things, an open curiosity.

Coming here meant leaving my comfort zone of south India, where I can relax with easy familiarity into several places: Auroville, Mysore, Goa and Kerala.

It's not so much that I wanted to challenge myself by travelling somewhere new. I was responding to the call of Ganga Devi, the river goddess who defines this town. 

And I wanted too to deepen my sadhana, my path of yoga. I wanted to chant and sing the holy names through mantra and bhajan, according to Vedic scripts, this is the dharma that corrects 'an ocean of faults' in this age of kali-yuga.

I’ve had a bit of a scattered experience and things are still pretty open. I stayed a couple of nights in Pamarth Niketan ashram and now I am further along the river, close to Laxman Jhula bridge in the Saint Seva ashram. 

Peacock feather seller, Laxman Jhula

It’s warmer than I thought. I came fully loaded with thick woollen socks, jumpers, hats and so on. It’s hot: I’m walking around in thin cotton garments and taking rest from the midday heat. I keep the fan going in my room for most of the day. So that’s the first surprise. 

Winter begins here in November, apparantly. I'm looking forward to the cooler weather, this morning gave a taste of that when the sun didn't break through until midday and I was able to take a good long walk down to Swarg ashram, crossing Ram Jhula bridge to check out the huge Sivananda ashram that dominates that side of the river.

The scenery here is breathtaking: emerald green, densely wooded hills surround Rishikesh. Goddess Ganga flows through, she is smooth and broad and fearless: sometimes calm and peaceful, othertimes powerful in movement. 

Ganga ma spoke to me as I stood gazing into her beauty at the side of Laxman Jhula bridge. Time stood still. You came my child, I called you and you came Was this real? I was almost in tears with the emotion of the moment.

I have met two wonderful women at Saint Seva ashram, where I am currently staying, both of American origin. Ruth is delicate, beautiful and sensitive. She is planning to travel south for the beaches. She will be moving to Saint Seva in a few days and has chosen the room next to me, so we might become neighbours.

Anita has been living in India for decades and is thoughtful and compassionate as well as a treasure trove of insider info. Indian men treat her with respect, referring to her as memsahib, a throwback to days of British rule That’s so funny as my husband is a lieutenant colonel she chuckled when I told her. Anita is based in Rishikesh and travels widely with her dog, Mister who is apparantly small and well behaved enough to be smuggled onto trains.

Mother and child

There are monkeys everywhere.  On my first day here a  large, grey senior male urinated outside my door as he held my gaze. I didn’t feel threatened; I don’t know whether he was marking his territory or just taking a pee because he felt like it. 

They sure are cheeky, upsetting bins, rummaging for food, running noisily across rooftops. I was in the habit of carrying a couple of apples in the mesh side pockets of my daypack, until yesterday, walking across Laxmand Jhula bridge I was pursed by a fierce looking brown macaque monkey.

He grabbed my leg with his small yet strong hand. I stuffed the fruit into the main part of my bag and legged it over the other side. I felt a bit silly to be running away from a monkey! 

I spoke on the phone with a close friend just before leaving the UK. She too was spending the winter abroad. We shared our hopes and expectations. What this helped me to realise that while I was excited and nervous about the new experiences that I could have, my priority was to take care of the inner being, to stay present with myself and gentle with myself.

Indians love to be photographed with foreigners

Currently this means checking in with myself several times during the day; how am I feeling? Allowing feelings to come through and be witnessed without necessarily naming or judging them.

Defending myself against critical thoughts or, noticing critical thoughts if they do arise and detaching from them, not making a story about what is happening.

Right now, I am feeling quite nervous and vulnerable and wondering what this time in Rishikesh will be. There are no clear answers, I feel that there are a number of options and I don't want to prematurely force an outcome for the sake of security.  Slowly, slowly, resting in the uncertainty, staying centred, keeping my ambition in check and allowing the adventure to unfold.

Gradually I am building my bank of local knowledge, good places to eat, where to get my laundry done, where to use the internet. Later today I will go back to the Sivananda ashram for Ladies maitri satsang -reading in Hindi and English in the Samadhi Hall, which I liked the sound of.

Thank you for reading and keeping me company

Blessings of divine love 

Jennifer

Falling in Love with Delhi

Cycle rickshaw and driverf, Delhi

Day one and India serves up a huge surprise, a coup de foudre. As this is my seventh visit, I should know by now to expect the unexpected. I was completely unprepared to fall in love with Delhi, and yet this is what happened.

 

I had crafted my itinerary so as to spend minimal time in India’s capital city. Touching down at Indira Gandhi International Airport at 8am I would transit to New Delhi Railway station, buy a ticket for the 3pm express train to Haridwar in the Himalaya. 

My schedule was all lining up nicely. I congratulated myself on the smooth flow and thanked the Universe for supporting me.

Did I mention that this is my seventh stay in India? I should have known better, India had other plans.

Delhi has a new metro system. It is a perfect example of how India observes and appropriates what other countries are doing in its quest for modernization and economic expansion. The metro was quiet, clean, cheap and efficient.  

I boarded at the airport, it was four stops to New Delhi station. I was feeling excited and buzzing just because of being in India. I was grinning so widely I straightened my face, not wanting to frighten my fellow passengers.

Layers of transport history

The carriages were peopled by the new generation of modern Indians, young, educated, wearing western style clothing and carrying the technological accoutrements of our age: laptops, mp3 players, mobile phones.   

The metro system itself reminded me of the Parisian RER network. The stations were spacious with wide walkways. 

 

At New Delhi train station, the fun began. I was carrying 26kg of luggage and a travel guitar. In my efforts to secure a ticket I must have traversed the station seven or eight times. Heaving my baggage up and down stairs, across platforms, through the security scans… I was getting tired and going nowhere.

In a fairly typical scenario I was sent from ticket booth to ticket booth, across town and back in a rickshaw and then queued for an hour in the foreigners office, finally to be told that the 3pm train was full. I crumbled somewhat: I wanted to keep moving. Having to spend the night in Delhi would slow me down and I had heard that hotels were expensive. What to do?

 

I had already missed two nights sleep, the night before my flight anxiety kept me awake and I flew through the night via Doha in Qatar. Nonetheless, the only viable option presented to me was a sleeper train, leaving Delhi at 10pm for a 6am arrival in Haridwar. I took it. It was years since I had taken a sleeper train and I was open to the adventure. 

 

I paid my ticket and stashed most of my luggage in the cloak room (platform 16, 10rs per item per 24 hours).  It was already 3pm and I wanted to take a shower and rest for a few hours so I began roaming the adjacent neighbourhood of Parharganj,  packed with budget hotels.

Roach ridden room at Hotel Volga

I checked out a few possibilities, the smarter places costing between 1500 – 2000rs were out of my price range. I headed deeper into the back streets and randomly selected Hotel Volga. 

The room was pretty crummy, I didn’t care. I paid 500rs with the agreement of receiving 100rs rebate for a pre 9pm checkout.

I showered and crashed onto the bed. There was a knock at the door. A young boy came in, ostensibly to check the air conditioner, he then asked me if I would like a body massage. Eh? A body massage. 

I twigged and feigned indignation and chased him out of the room. I thought I should report this incident at reception to preserve my moral integrity.

Downstairs in the foyer I was taken aback to see a row of individuals seated in a line upon a sofa. In an instant I took in garish makeup, and a hard quality to their faces, they were all hookers, of both sexes. 

This was my first encounter with Indian prostitutes, let alone transvestites and I really wanted to stare and take in the grotesqueness of it all. Namaste, intoned a large, butch she-male in a pink and red sari. I kept walking, out onto the street as though that was my original intention.

Hence I found myself in the teeming, dusty, ever moving mass that is urban India. Every inch of the city was vibrating with life. In my street a horse was tethered next to an open air urinal, then an artisan beating copper wire, then children and grandmother lounging on a day bed, then a gents barbers (hair saloon), then a cook frying samosas in a large iron pan on an open flame, then a tiny temple dedicated to the Goddess Durga and so on.

Street life, Parharganj

It occurred to me that this was village life, being lived outside, communally and that all of history was happening at once. 

Stumbling over a cockerel I rejoined the main road and marvelled at the rush hour traffic. Lanes and lanes of every kind of transport from bicycle rickshaws to privately owned air conditioned four wheel drives. Honking and parping and pumping fumes and travelling very slowly with no sense of rule or regulation.

I checked in with myself: cities tend to drain me, how was I feeling? I should have been exhausted and depleted from the travel and lack of sleep. Yet I felt, alive and invigorated and really, really happy!

It was true, I felt amazing! I was coming up on the insane chaos of this ugly, beautiful city. India, ever the temptress, had scored again and stolen my heart. I stood still in the turbulence and absorbed the scene. The prana, the life force of India. How utterly absurd! As nourishing and blissful as standing under a waterfall.

I ambled around as the sunset, meandering the back streets and eating far too many snacks; samosas fresh from the fryer, roasted channa (chickpeas) served in a twist of newspaper, sliced pineapple and tiny cups of sugary chai. It was most unhealthy and I was loving it!

All aboard!

Later, I checked out of Hotel Volga, collected my luggage and took the metro to Chandra Chowk for Old Delhi Station. 

I was helped onto the train by a vibrant, newly divorced Delhite, Anjuna, who was visiting her son in Mussourie. I let her take charge of me, it was nice to be taken care of, another blessing!

Finding my carriage I scrambled up to the top bunk, arranged my bedding and lay smiling to myself as I replayed the day in my mind. I fell asleep with thoughts of gratitude and anticipation of what was to come, whatever that should be….

At the time of writing 75rs = £1