Fruit of the Gods

Driving in cars with strange boys, talking to strangers, drinking the local water, riding motorbikes at night in the rain... all things I have been warned about. Women get a lot of advice before travelling. There are lots of rules for us, mostly based on fear and stories of bad things that have actually happened to someone else who we have no inkling of.

Why is it then, that this advice when not followed correctly results in having HEAPS of fun? What advice do I now give to my nieces and god-daughters and all the young women and girls I love and care for when my experience of travelling generally goes off the charts by doing all of the above? Trust yourself. To trust though, it helps to have experience. So it's catch 22. You've got to have experiences to understand fear and develop trust. Trust and fear - two sides of the same coin of both travel and yoga.

Oh and it helps to meet lovely guys, who stop and chat to everyone on the road and teach you how to pray properly. They also wanted to be in my blog, so that was another reason not to kidnap me.

On Saturday - yoga day off - I ride out to Ranganthittu Bird Sanctuary 28 kms north of Mysore in the country, a green bit on Google Maps. No white  people, no surprise. It seemed to be the place to meet your boyfriend for a snuggle by what I could tell. A lot of loving going down in the dark corners of this Sanctuary.

On a boat tour of the Kaveri River which is the main thing to do here, I meet a couple of guys down from Bengaluru on a road trip, Bharath the quiet one with a big smile and Mohan, a big guy with a love of adventure. Both work in IT, Bharath at HP and Mohan at Microsoft. So we get chatting about places to visit, and Mohan is loosely translating the guy rowing the boat:  There’s a bird. Yep. And another one, Yep, got it. There’s a crocodile. Yeah, yeah I see it. I’m pretty sure the guy rowing 20 of us into a head-wind wasn’t saying that going by his expression, but anyway.

Rowing man head down

They charge tourists Rs 300 and locals Rs 30 to do the same tour- an interesting marketing strategy to attract international birdwatchers. I know I know, it’s only $13 all up, cheap, and you can rationalise the price like some do here. Same way I suppose they rationalise it’s ok to keep 5 rupees of your foreigners change without asking, the assumption is you can afford it. Being treated like an ATM because you are white is not a compelling experience for anyone in any language, anywhere.

After the boat ride, where it starts to pelt down with rain while we are out on the water, Mohan is loving it. "Ah it's... it's just... bewwwwdiful!" It is. He is smiling ear to ear. He likes rain as much as me. Bharat smiles at his friend. Mohan has ants in his pants, the guy can’t sit still. Over chai and thali they invite me to join them on their “just cruising around, man!” tour of the region and we settle on going to Melkote home to a number of significant Hindu temples in southern India. There’s an Academy of Sanskrit there and the same place Sarah, an American Sanskrit scholar I met recently recommended I check out. My rule of thumb is, if you hear about a place from 2 or more separate sources, maybe go check it out. It’s 130 kms north of the Bird Sanctuary so I leave 'scootie' behind and we drive off together.

croc

I know they are legit and don’t plan to kidnap me because they are stopping every every 10kms to shout for directions through the car window to locals. It’s just how Mohan rolls, he’s definitely a people person. So everyone on the back roads to Melkote knows where I am, and who I am with because they all peer into the car and stare as they answer and point and waggle congenially. On the drive the the conversation covers all the big stuff... about girls who work, why women love money so much, how to get a wife, breaking up stories, living with mum, seeing the world, what's for lunch, the crazy mo-fos overtaking trucks in front of us.

Singin in the rain

At Melkote and make our way into the main temple, and Bharath scolds me off for having too much fun in the temple. He is the quiet, serious one and he who teaches me how to prepare and accept a blessing, rub my hands over fire, drink and sprinkle water – “With the right hand, Sue, the right hand! She’s from Australia,” he explains to the holy man amused at my strange attempt to both drink and shower at the same time. Luckily for me, it’s not a one shot game. There are lots of gods to pay respect to so I’m on my way to being an expert before I leave. Actually it was a moving experience and I'm grateful for Bharath getting serious on me.

Then Mohan starts. “It’s rude to point your toes at the carving, Sue.” “No, no Sue, you don’t turn your back on the holy man after your blessing. You back away facing him and slowly turn away.” Except there are people crammed in and there’s no way I’m able to do that. “You look at the god’s feet, not just the top part with all the flowers…” “But the feet were covered in flowers,” I protest trying to hold some ground. I get a dark look. No excuse. I am the Christian in the room. Christians do good lighting, space and hygiene and keep our candles to the alter.  No playing with fire. No drinking the holy water. No rolling around on the floor, not like here. There are babies and old people sitting in the way, lying flat out, tummy sliding on stained 1000 year old concrete shiny with wear, doing god knows what snake impersonations. It’s getting funky below the knees in the temple but Bharath is steering me out towards the sunlight, before I decide that could be fun too.

In my extensive experience in being told off, disapproved of and tutted at, I find there is a point where you either go into paralysis and become like a robot, or you perfect your ‘whatever’ and hope others will get used to you eventually as you do them.  As I’ve been (gently and with good humour) corrected so much in 20 minutes, I was in the first stages of paralysis while the boys were disagreeing over something in the background.   Childhood neighbours for 25 years, Mohan and Bharath couldn’t be more different, such a great pair of opposites. While they are fighting a woman in a green sari comes up to me as I’m tracing my fingers across ancient Sanskrit carved in stone walls wondering about the age of this place.  She shoves some dragon fruit on a banana leaf in my hands and motions for me to eat it and walks off, but I’m doubtful because everything else I’ve done has been wrong. I look around helplessly trying to get the boys’ attention but of course everyone is watching what I do next. Great. Do I make it an offering? I’ve seen fruit offerings go by in here to rival the greatest grey-nomad sun-downer platter. Do I give it to someone? Pay her?

A young girl stands and openly points and laughs at me covering her face, shaking her head at the whitey who doesn’t know what to do with the fruit that I didn’t ask for and can’t stomach right now.
So you can’t take photos, laugh too much, turn your back, use your left hand, or be efficient in queues but you can eat fruit, slide on your belly in sacred temples and push in aggressively. I love this crazy country! I eat the fruit, relieved that eating at least, is universal.

God or Guru?

Being a Hindu place with a God for every occasion you'd think there'd be plenty of opportunity to explore ideas of God, but it's harder than it looks. I'm no newcomer to religion and not uncomfortable with God as an experience. But if you do yoga, do you need to believe in God? If you don't believe in God, which I'd say statistically would include most people who do yoga, then is the next best thing to treat your teacher like a god? Is the guru a substitute for God?

Religion is an ordinary part of life for locals by what I see in daily routines, but the only people doing the sweating are the westerners. And the only people I see us worshipping are teachers and the images of gurus past and present. So then, is a guru/teacher the western replacement for God?

'God' is up there with 'strategic', 'love' and 'spiritual' as an over-used and abused word, used with either great caution or too much definition. But knowing God is one of the 8 limbs of ashtanga; after self study comes studying God.  If you're into yoga then at some point, you may start checking out what you believe about god, or spirit, whatever term you use.

God is a pretty big topic to stomach before 8am. Hard to tackle between your mat, millet pancakes and eco-friendly date-shake. But if you're not 'going in', or thinking about where god is in all this sweating and concentration, then it's a workout in a place with coconut trees.  But I didn't come to India for a workout.

Visiting a temple recently I was a spectator, and more interested in the silverware than the ritual, which what I could see involved taking money from lots of poor people, pushing them through a small doorway past a dirty concrete statue of something for about 2 seconds and then pushing them into another doorway out into sunshine yelling at them to hurry up the whole time. God On The Run.  Drive Through Religion.  But you can't be a tourist if you want to find God, standing on the sidelines and waiting for the entertainment.  God happens inside, by what I know.

Coming to India to find out about God is not a bad place to start. But you wouldn't want to be lost and searching, cause there sure are a lot of them and there's no text book.  A prison is another place you would probably be wondering if there's a God. Or at war, or in intensive care. Often dealing with my housekeeper I am muttering to God.  A yoga mat is a pretty soft place to be, really. It's hard to find and fight for real love when there's been little adversity, or suffering, or motivation. In many ways we don't need God, until wham! Suddenly we do. Even this guy will do in an emergency.

Ganesh remover of obstacles - quite a busy elephant 

Pattabi Jois (died in 2009) is/was  Guruji for many people who learnt ashtanga yoga from him. I not sure I'd call him that, in any but the true meaning of the word - a teacher (guru) of great affection and respect (ji).  Worshipping gurus seems odds with what we are being taught in yoga - to be self sufficient, practise daily, find our own sense of spirit and be become better people over time by being conscious of our crap. If you don't believe in God, I guess your guru is the next stop, but worshipping humans - apart from boy bands when you are 14 years old - is a little fraught if you want to call yourself an adul

But I see it, the gushy adoration of gurus. It's sad how we are so willing to give ourselves up, give our power away to another human being, putting people on pedestals when they are just people whether our bosses, politicians, teachers, rock stars.  It's one thing to trust but another to worship a teacher. I think you are always free to say no, to disagree. It's not arrogance to back yourself up, test out your ideas. Even if you are wrong. It's not superiority or smugness.  I'm sure Pattabi Jois bugged his wife, left his wet towels on the bed, told bad jokes, forgot to get the milk, argued...whatever.  I like to think about this version of the man in his ordinary-ness, but also with his talent as teacher, father, husband, person.

I think of all the everyday people who do amazing things, saving lives and negotiating conflict, doing the plumbing, trash collecting, teaching children, and keeping company of elderly people preparing for death and who cares if you can back bend?

I don't think you need a 'guru' to worship,  but you might need one to help you study God and know the difference.