Unforeseen Circumstances

It's a story...and a good one, but alas I need to catch the ferry soon so I don't have time to tell it.

The short story:

My return trip has been delayed.   Everything is great.  I will see you all in yoga class on SUNDAY Feburary 14 at 9:30am.   Until then, all classes are cancelled unless otherwise noted.

Love and Blessings to you all.
Karen

Anita's World

Anita, my Indian cook, was born into a poor family. Her parents married her off in an arranged marriage when she was a mere girl of 13 to a 30 year old man. She had no choice in the arrangement. She's had two boys: both were cesarean births as the doctors told her that she was too underdeveloped to birth the natural way.

Her husband is unemployed and spends the greater part of his day drinking. When asked why she doesn't leave him, she replies in her broken English that she has nowhere to go. Her mother’s house is one room and a brother with his wife and four children, including her older son, live there. She and the younger son still live in the husband's house, though they spend a lot of time at mums. When the younger son asks why his father is passed out and smells so bad, Anita tells the child that the father is sick and the bad smell is his medicine, which I suppose is not so far from the truth.

She wants a divorce, but needs a place to live first. When I told her that I wanted to see her house and that I wanted to give her all of my cooking supplies and food reserves on Friday (which is my last day in Pune), she said that we should take it all to her mother's house or the mother-in-law would simply take it away from her. She assures me that her children will marry someone they choose.

She is now 28 years old, speaks broken English, has a beautiful smile with sparkling eyes, a quick laugh and has two beautiful young boys aged 10 and 7 (I'm guessing). She brought the boys to the house on Saturday so that I could meet them. While they speak only a few numbers in English, the boys are clearly intelligent, well-loved and happy. We listened to music on the computer, dancing around and playing the drum while Anita cooked lunch for me and a friend. May we all learn to live so gracefully under challenge.

Patrycia Blundell

My friend John and I went to La Meridian, a fancy 4 or 5 star hotel, for the lunch buffet yesterday. Lo and behold, Patrycia Blundell, the fiery eighty-three year old yogini from Australia, was there by herself and of course, we asked her to join us. "God Good No!" she exclaimed when someone implied that she was from Australia. "I'm pure Irish" she informed us, whereas my friend John who had two grandmothers from Ireland was a mere mongrel. 

As soon as John got up to go serve himself at the buffet,  Patrycia turned towards me and asked with a glimmer in her eye, "So," she paused "is that your husband?"   I laughed and assured her that we were just friends.   She sighed with relief, "One never knows how to ask these things." She paused again and with a devilish little smile and her brillant blue eyes sparkling she said,  "I quite fancy him.   In fact, I think I quite fancied him that last time we met as well!"

Her story unfolded.  She went to boarding school in Ireland, became a nurse and went off to the Korean War. On the boat ride over, the army ship broke down in the Dead Sea and they had to wait for two weeks to get a new propeller. Luckily, there was a band on board and 2000 men....and only 4 women. She leaned over to me at this point and under her breath whispered, "Yes, my dear, you just need to put yourself somewhere where you have choices." She was engaged six times before she finally got married in 1957.

The chap she married had been a prisoner of war in China for three and a half years. Having never seen prisoners of war before, she and her girlfriend had placed themselves in a good location to view the prisoners of war as they emerged from a ship. One can only imagine these chaps coming off the boat to see Ms. Patrycia and her girlfriend. I suppose the whole lot of them fell in love right at that instant. Anyway, as the first fellow emerged from the ship, her girlfriend exclaimed "oh look at him!" and Patrycia, who's sights had fallen on the 6'3" blond chap behind the first fellow" replied "oh yes". As it turned out, these two fellows were best friends. Patrycia got engaged first to the blond, then apparently broke it off and married the first chap, a very conservative Englishman. She said "that my first mistake, marrying an Englishman". The fellows, predictably, never spoke again.

Four children later, the army offered her husband a golden parachute to retire early and he applied for a position in the English Foreign Service. He was selected out of 67 candidates and a huge outcry ensured. How could they appoint a former prisoner of war to the secret service? What if the Chinese had turned him? To her delight, journalists camped out on Patrycia's front lawn every day. The Blundells were front page news. She said "yes I'd feed them breakfast and we got some wonderful photographs of me and the children." The job offer was revoked and the husband, fed up with the entire affair, decided that they should immigrate. They had lived in South Africa before so Patrycia, in the back of her mind, thought that was where they would end up.

They discussed the list of options. "North America is out" the husband said, Patrycia paused here for a moment, gave a little wink and apologized in advance, "because we can't stand the Yanks." Canada was too cold. New Zealand was too backward and boring. South Africa was about to blow up from the Apartheid issue. Patrycia said "Well where else is there? That's the entire list." Her husband replied "Australia". She thought about it for a moment and said "Well I'll go to Australia if you send me to a beauty farm first for two weeks" as she wanted to quit smoking. "Well, the poor fellow could ill afford a beauty farm in addition to moving the family to Australia, but he managed to pull it off and off I went to the Beauty Farm," she beamed.
This beauty farm was apparently THE beauty farm to go to in 1968 and included such people as David Frost, ministers from the government, etc. etc. She was of course equally famous having been in the papers for the past several weeks. She hinted to anyone who would listen that it would be fantastic for her husband to find a position in England so she could avoid the upcoming and undesirable move to Australia. Her insinuations fell on deaf ears and they boarded a ship, lived on the upper deck, and dined with the captain (as they were famous). It was simply a delightful journey.

Now? She lives a "stone's throw" away from her four children in Perth. The husband lives in England and has for many years. She has ten or eleven grandchildren and considers her life dull in Australia. "I come here," she says "to get away from the whole lot of them." She smiles. Her son told her "Mum, can't you see we've all married women exactly like you." She smiles again. She's been practicing yoga for eons and teaches out of her home in Perth. The average age of her students, she contends, is 21 years old. She's currently teaching Olympic sprinters a special class. Her motto is "I give them one new pose per week. If they haven't practiced it," the glimmer in her blue eyes increases here "then I don't allow them to come back because they have no real interest in Yoga".

I found this photo of Patrycia in her home studio in Perth online.   The facebook caption "my hottie 83 year-old Iyengar yoga teacher in Perth.  Red headed Irish bombshell!"   May we all age so gracefully.

Ravi Shanker

There was a free concert at SP college last night that I found via internet while looking for information about the upcoming Zakir Hussain concert here in Pune.  A friend and I decided to go to this concert.  After all who could pass up a free concert by the world's leading sitar player?   We arrived to the venue late (always a good policy for concerts and speeches here in India because these events generally last eons) and without the free passes.    It's strange---in India, free concerts still apparently require you to hold the free pass for entrance.   Of course, where to procure these free passes is not at all obvious.  

We skirted the front entrance and instead ventured to a back entry to check out the situation and to see the event a little closer in order to decide if we wanted to actually enter (that is, if we could find passes).      I asked the gate guards if there was any chance that we could perhaps enter right there and no, unfortunately we didn't have passes.   At first, the girl told us "I'm sorry, but so many people are asking the same thing".    We held our ground and looked on apologetically.    Within five minutes, they were leading us through the gate and showing us the way to the seats.    We ended up sitting in the VIP section close to the soundboard.   Our seats really could not have been better.

The enoromous stage appeared temple-like surrounded with golden arcs and reliefs. bright blue lights,a center poster in Hindi depicting a Universe like image, a huge PA system complete with professional roaming cameras on a stick and two gigantic television screens.    On stage sat 2,700 singers in matching saris for the women and kurtas for the men, in addition to numerous musicians.    The newspaper today said that it was the largest number of performers on stage in India ever and that they estimated 150,000 people showed up to see it.      Ravi Shankar walked down the ailse to a seat (think throne) right in front of the soundboard and not so far away from us.    Everybody immediately ignored what was happening on stage and rushed to see Ravi Shankar with plenty of "guruji's" in hushed voices and cameras snapping.    The police eventually shoed everybody away, but we did get a pretty good glimpse of the fellow sitting in his white robes looking very holy.    I kept thinking to myself "now when does he get on stage to play the sitar?" and "wow, I didn't realize that the Indians considered this guy such a guruiji".    

The singing was fantastic, completed with the audience sing along "Om Namah Shivah".       Then the speeches in Hindi and/or Marauti began.   This was obviously less interesting for us.    I kept hoping for the music again.    Then Ravi approached the stage, took his even more elaborate throne complete with golden saried women at his feet and proceeded to speak---unfortunately, in another language of some kind.   He talked and talked and talked....the only words I understood were jiva (individual soul),  atma (Universal Spirit),  shanti (peace), and om (the sound of the Universe).   I kept thinking "wow. I guess this sitar player has moved into other realms of interest."  Clearly this was a spiritaul speech of some kind, which at one point included a meditation complete with three "oms" by the crowd and one lone red firework over the stage.    Then Ravi continued his speech.  With no end in sight and our hungry bellys growling, we skirted the venue, managed to catch a rickshaw back home, and had some dinner at my friend's hotel.    This is where I learned that there are TWO famous Ravi Shankar's in India.   One is a world famous sitar player and the other was this fellow on stage, the recent author of "The Art of Living".   The event was perhaps more of a book and lecture series promotion than a musical event.    Nonetheless, 2700 people singing on one stage was a beautiful thing to see. 

Kheer

I asked  Anita (the cook) to make kheer the other day, thinking that kheer was the same thing as rice pudding.  Since my "i'm gonna give up sugar" resolution lasted all of about one day, I figured I might as well have my favorite comfort food.    I love a thick creamy pudding.  

She told me I'd have to have milk, butter and kawa.   What's kawa?   Good question.   The hindi-english translator translated kawa as, you guessed it, kawa.     I finally located the solid milk product of some kind at the nearby sweet shop, although I had to call Anita to have her say the word in Hindi because they couldn't understand me for anything.  For 45rs ($1) I brought home a ball and a half of kawa.  

I've decided that it's not a bad idea to watch Anita cook every now and again.   I love to cook and any new ideas of how and what to cook are always welcome.    Kheer was my first lesson.   

1. Deseed several Cardamon pods and crush the seeds with a spoon (translate this as: put the seeds in the coffee grinder and push the on button).   

2.  Melt 1/4 cup butter and ghee and fry your crushed cardamon.

3.  Melt 1.5 balls of kawa in this butter mix.  (I do realize that until we figure out what in the heck kawa is, this recipe is rendered useless).

4.  Add 1-2 cups boiled milk.   Add cooked rice. 

5.  Add sugar to taste and cook the milk down.

My conclusions:  kheer is not pudding.  It's not really thick and creamy the way I like my pudding, but when Anita made it, it was delicious albeit different from what I expected.

So this morning I decided to make kheer with leftover black rice for breakfast (mostly to use up the rice).   I cheated.   I heated up the milk first then added only a couple full cardamon pods, a few spoonfuls of butter and a 1/2 ball of kawa.  Then I added the black rice and sugar.   My conclusion?   Stick to Anita's recipe.   You apparently can't skip the process as the result will not be the same.    I wonder if the street dogs will like my attempt. 

 

The Dentist.

I meant to write this entry last week when it actually happened, but here you go better late than never.  

It is a popular pasttime amongst Iyengar students to get dental work done here in India.   It's very inexpensive and as I suggested before, the medical care seems quite good here indeed.   So my December landlady Neena suggested a dentist and I finally visited the SMILE Clinic around the corner from Deep Bungalow Chowk (the intersection where I live).    There were none of the modern conveniences of American dentistry...no tvs in the ceiling, none of that.   The space, however, was clean and the staff friendly.   Kinda like a trip back in time...imagine your dentist's office in the early 1990s.   The basics are there, but there's no gizmos.

The Doctor was kind and the exam thorough.   He even wrote notes himself, if you can imagine.   My teeth are in good condition, my gums are receeding a bit and the diagnosis was "have you been taught how to brush your teeth?"   I told him that I thought so, but he could go ahead and tell me again.    Now THIS informaton is important.  This is what he had to say:

Brush the gum line gently towards the teeth.   As children most of us were taught to scrub the brush back and forth.   This causes gum recession later in life.   Instead, we should take a SOFT toothbrush, place it at the gum line and then slightly vibrate it as we stroke from the gum line towards the toothedge.    When I told the dentist that I use baking soda to brush my teeth, he replied that the substance we use for toothpaste doesn't much matter.   It's all about the stroke.  

To make the experience of brushing your teeth even more of a meditation---try switching hands every day.   Lemme tell you: this new stroke combined with using my opposite hand has made the entire situation comical.    The mirror that I look into as I practice this new process has suffered more spattering than it's probably ever seen before--looks like snow on your windshield after I'm finished.   After flossing, brushing the teeth and tongue,  try swirling around sesame oil in your mouth for at least two minutes (this builds gum strength according to the Ayuvedic people).   I'm diggin the results.

Happy Brushing.     

Energy.

The breadth of the human experience must go beyond the mundane daily existence of living. Understand: there is Energy pulsing through us all the time. Call it Energy. Call it Spirit. Call it God Force. Call it your great aunt Matilda. It doesn’t really matter what you call it. It’s there. Our choice is whether or not we chose to notice it, to tap into it, to see it for what it is. What happens if, for instance, you imagine a white light energy glowing from your heart center and third eye for a minute? Yeah, I know: the first thing that crosses your mind is “why I am reading this blog anyway….the girl’s gone batty.” But if you please, hear me out.


Yesterday in the Saturday morning yoga class, as Geeta had us do about 10 Viparita Dandasana’s with bent legs in a row insisting that we hold the pose, I started to envision this Energy. Yes, I was still working on the minutely physical details of press the wrists down, lift the shoulders up, open the chest, etc. etc. Yoga asanas can have timelessness to them, so my guess is that we held each Viparita Dandasana for a minute; however, it just as easily could have been 30 seconds or three minutes. Hard to say. The first few repetitions were a mostly physical experience for me. Then I started to imagine this Energy, along with the breath, flowing throughout every cell of my body and somehow I gave up the struggle aspect. Not only was I able to hold the pose, but I felt like I could have held the pose even longer then when Geeta told us to come down.

Now Viparita Dandasana is a challenging pose for me and multi-tasking the physical requirements of the pose along with envisioning this Energy still remained a challenging task. Sirsasana (headstand), which for me is a easier pose so far as the physical requirements go, followed all of our Viparita Dandasanas. Here I could really envision a strong white light beaming throughout my entire body, seemingly lifting me to the heavens. Now this is where it gets interesting. Patricia Blanchard, the eighty-three year old with flaming, and I mean FLAMING red hair, observes some of the classes in the back of the room. She happened to be sitting by me. After Sirsasana as we shifted things around to prepare for Salamba Sarvangasana, she leaned towards me and whispered, “your Sirsasana is very strong.”

For me, I am beginning to deduce that THIS ENERGY is what yoga is all about. Of course, I’ve read this. I’ve heard it said a million times by a million different teachers. Experiencing is a different story. Maybe this is how that magic man made my hands smell like Champa last week. I hope to see him again today as I head, once again, to the blissful swimming pool across town.

Keep the Energy Flowing.

Nature changes daily.   So do our bodies.   Can we let the energy flow completely throughout the body?  Can we really BE in the body?  Can we, for a moment, stop the vrttis (mind fluctuations) and completely absorb ourself in every cell of the Body?   And then once we have that awareness can we watch the prana through the vehicle of the breath?  Can we observe the places it goes and where it doesn't go?   Can we be present?  Totally, unabashedly absorbed in our Inner Spirit?  Can we feel the beautiful, miraculous life force flowing through us?

These are my thoughts for the day.

Yo-Yos and MAGIC

The internet has been swinging almost like a yo-yo---it’s up, it’s down but it’s definitely not all around. The last few days have been interesting. Both the classes and the practice sessions have been fabulous. Geeta is in what could be called a jovial mood and Mr. Iyengar clearly likes teaching Patricia Walden and Lois Steinberg during practice as the rest of us watch. Prashant’s teachings are steady as a rock. I am looking forward to sharing what I’ve learned with you all in February.

My Sunday trip to the swimming pool included me easily procuring rides everywhere I went (given there was a four day rickshaw strike) and a real magic show. This Baba, a handsome old man bearded with Muslim hat and missing teeth, has been trying to capture my attention each time I’ve been to the pool the last several weeks. I finally succumbed to his pleas for attention and I am so glad that I did--this guy knows magic. First the ole ball under the cup trick---first it’s there, and then it’s not. Remarkable, but not mind blowing. The next trick was slightly more impressive. He put a ring inside a folded handkerchief---made me feel the ring inside the fold several times—then laid the folded handkerchief over a stick, waved his hand or something, removed the handkerchief and Walla! The ring was ON the stick. I was holding both ends of the stick the entire time and there were no gaps in the ring. One step up on the Amazing Ladder. The trick that really got me? There was a flower bed behind where we were sitting. He says in his babbled English, “you like rose, jasmine (or in his case “zazmeen”), champa, and some other unintelligible flower names that I don’t know. You pick” I chose champa. He told me to rub the back of my hands together and smell. Really when I say this: there is a strong smell of champa that lasted for over an hour. Now I’m convinced of two things: this guy is the real thing and magic happens. I hope he’s there this coming Sunday. I want to see it all again.

In a more tangible line of experience, my roommates and I splurged last night to go to the nearby Italian restaurant. So much for me giving up wheat, at least while that restaurant is nearby. I may have developed an addiction to the ravioli and steamed broccoli. If I never eat Indian food again, it will be too soon. I think I might have to fire the cook today. Ramblings. Anyway, as we walked home along the main boulevard a tiny little puppy ran by us and into the very trafficy street as we watched in horror. All of a sudden another dog sees the situation, runs into the street himself, barks at the puppy and corrals him back to the sidewalk and literally stands there barking at the puppy as if to say “oh no you don’t”. The dog continued to block the street from the puppy, who was by this time cowering past the sidewalk. Now this is education and I suppose why one never sees adult dogs in India ignoring traffic. Or they’d all be dead for certain.

I will continue to blog as the internet allows me to.

Number 8 Revised.

I should get at least one extra star on my sticky mat for swimming yesterday.  Jackie, my new Dutch friend, took me to this amazingly clean, EMPTY, beautiful swimming pool for a swim in the afternoon.    Of course, the reason why the pool was empty probably had something to do with the fact that it was like swimming in the Arctic.  I'm not kidding.  This pool was coooollllldddd.   I managed to stay in the pool, swimming as fast as I could to generate heat, for about ten minutes only to emerge with blue lips, chattering teeth and a desire to run in my swimsuit into the sun outside.   I couldn't quite dry off fast enough, thinking "oh my god that Dutch girl is crazy!"   As I'm standing by the pool to say my goodbyes to rush home to a hot shower (now that the kitchen faucet is fixed there is gladly more than a dribble), she informs me of the steam room upstairs.   Perfect I think.  

Of course, this is India and the best laid plans are, well, more likely than not to have some humorous flaw to them.    It took 10 minutes for the free standing box to heat up.   I cowered in the corner directly in front of the steam and then just as I was beginning to warm up, the thing shuts off.   Of course, the door to the steam room doesn't quite shut so all the steam dissipated in about one minute and I was once again left dreaming of my hot shower at home as I quickly got dressed.    It was fun but I'm not sure about repeating any of that particular adventure.

Geeta's classes over the past few days have been amazing.   There is a much larger January crowd and it would seem, a new energy pervading the entire establishment.     The Americans are well represented and it feels a bit like a high school reunion.    After class, I returned home with a new friend Jo from Florida to a yummie lunch that my cook made.   I actually like the Indian food she makes and am quite looking forward to being fattened up a bit after the last few paltry weeks.    My Italian roommates arrive tonight and tomorrow I think I'll venture to Koreegan Park to the outside swimming pool which is fast becoming a Sunday tradition.

Oh, yeah, the sugar resolution didn't last, especially that "definitively" part.  The pudding I made just didn't taste good with honey.   Maybe LESS SUGAR should be the Resolution.    Never say never....it's too hard.

Welcoming in the New Year

I moved into my new apartment yesterday to find the kitchen sink running water as the faucet was stripped and no internet password.  The hot water in the shower is a dribble and watch out for the hot water tap---if your leg accidentally brushes it, you will notice the burn as I did yesterday.    The landlords were supposively going to send a plumber last night and after a series of phone calls, I finally managed to connect to the world wide web.   What a relief.   I woke up to no water in the apartment at all.  

Our last December class was a one hour meditation class followed by a 1.5 hour talk by Geeta on the sixth chapter of the Bhagavad Gita.    Not exactly booging to my favorite band all night long.    Most of us went directly home after the talk as we have classes per ususal today.    So rather than dancing in the new year,   I was "dancing on the inside" while "sleeping on the outside".    But before I doozed off,  I managed to write my New Year's Resolutions.   Here they are (so that you all can keep me honest):

1.  Remember how blessed I really am.   Thank you Almighty Universe for this amazing life.
2.  Repeat more often:  I am Serene, Centered and Happy.
3.  Listen.   Attentively.   To everything.
4.  Pranayama EVERY morning.
5.  Swim.
6.  Drink more water (good water---that is!)
7.  Eat more greens.
8.  Give up sugar.  Definitively.
9.  Hanumanasana  (see Light on Yoga for reference).
10. Work on the scar tissue in my big toe joints.  Feet. Feet. Feet.
.
And now, I must go meet my new Dutch friend whose name I can't recall so that she can show me the nearby swimming pool.    My apartment is now in working order.  The cook starts tomorrow and all I bought were green vegetables for her to cook.    Life is good.  Blessings to you all in the new year.