In search of Saraswati…

My time in India is coming to an end – for now anyway. I’m sure I’ll be back at some point in the future. There are still so many experiences to be had and interesting characters to be met. And despite the various contrasts that I touched upon in an earlier post, I’m still deeply drawn to the spiritual awareness, or “groundedness”, that continues to be explored and practiced here. I like to call it “groundedness” as spiritual awareness freaks people out or conjures up various images that don’t accurately convey what I’m talking about. I think the majority of people have a greater understanding and respect for the word “grounded”.

So, I’m not saying goodbye to India, but I’m saying goodbye to this Blog. I’ll keep the Blog active at the address – blogs.bootsnall.com/libbyswan/ – to serve anyone interested in travel to/within India.

Before I go…Kaivalyadhama Yoga Institute – http://www.kdham.com/

This is where I am currently. (I’ve broken my “no Internet for 7 days vow”.) I’m attending the 7-day yoga-therapy/naturopathy “treatment course”. I’m essentially a patient at the facility’s “Yoga Hospital”. To be a student here, you must be enrolled in one of their Certificate or Diploma courses. The shortest of these courses I believe is approx. 6 weeks.

Anyway, today is day five, and I’m thoroughly relaxed and well-rested, albeit a bit sore given I’ve been doing two yoga classes a day, after many months of no exercise other than walking/hiking.

This has been my daily regimen:

6.30am – Wake-up
7am-8.15am – Yoga (Very much like Hatha Yoga, although Kaivalyadhama’s Yoga is “non-denominational” – so I’ve been told)
9am – Breakfast (Veggie)
9.30am/10am – Naturopathy treatment (approx. 40 min. to 1.30 hours, depending on what’s been assigned to you/what you’ve chosen)
12pm – Lunch (Veggie)
2pm/3pm – Naturopathy treatment (same situation as above)
4.30pm-5.45pm – Yoga
7pm – Dinner (Veggie)
8pm – Lecture (I’ve attended none of these as my concentration span has crashed by dinner time)
9pm – Sleep (You can go to sleep at anytime you like. 9pm has been the time I’ve usually been crashing by.)

Oh, and I’m getting all of this for USD $15/day. Or it could be USD $12. I have my own room (there are two beds) and a separate/shared (VERY CLEAN) bathroom. And given it’s the low-season there are only four other “patients” here with me (only one other foreigner). The rest of the people visiting the campus are students either doing a Certificate or Diploma course. Of these students there are about 10 other foreign students that dine with us at meal times. Makes for an interesting crowd…

Just got back from a 7 day trip to see the Taj Mahal, Dharmsala, Dalhousie, Chamba and Kujar (I think it was Kujar). The later four are all in the Indian state of Himachal Pradesh, in the Western Himalayas.

Pictures describe most of what we saw better than words, so here are just a few. I’ll post a few of the “nuggets” I picked up along the way, especially in Dharmsala (the Dalai Lama’s home base), later on.

Just quickly, some of the highlights included: getting to the Taj from Delhi and back in under 20 hours; crossing the Bhagsu waterfall with a French couple and hiking along the other side with them; dining with a very cute Japanese couple in McLeod Ganj/Dharmsala over…pizza; meeting a Dutch Buddhist in training, learning from her, and playing with her gorgeous son; stopping the car outside of Chamba and hiking up some unknown trail to the top of a mountain to find ~4 families living there who make the hike everyday just to get to the store, school, etc.

One of the major low-lights was the amount of discarded chip/snack packets we saw pretty much everywhere. It would be great if Pepsi Co. (the owner of Frito Lay, and one of the major, if not #1 distributors of chips/snacks here) could find a better solution to preserve their chips/snacks. One that’s biodegradable or at least recyclable. You’d think that given their CEO (Indra Nooyi) is of Indian descent, there might be a greater sense of corporate responsibility or concern about Pepsi’s role in the pollution of India.

I joined a group of Dev’s friends for a hike this past Sunday – minus Dev. Dev was still dealing with the consequences of Friday night…

Here was the email (with a few small edits) that was sent out re: the hike:

About Peth (or Kotligad): Peth is a small fort, with a large cave at its base, that sits on top of a mountain at an altitude of 1,550 feet. It’s in the shape of a funnel with a rocky staircase carved in the middle. The mountain that the fort sits on is detached from the main range of the Sahyadiri. The lower plateau is connected with Wandre Khind on the ghats in the east.

About the Hike: It’s about a 2 hour walk from the nearest road (Ambivli) to the base of fort. From the base to the top, it’s about half an hour.

Program: Leave for Ambivli (25km from Karjat) by car (7:30 a.m). Arrive at Ambivli by 9:30 a.m. Follow the trail to Peth. Arrive at Peth village by 11.30 a.m. Arrive at Peth fort by 12:00 p.m. After lunch, head back down to Ambivli. Arrive at Ambivli by 3:30 p.m. Depart for Mumbai. Arrive in Mumbai by 6.00 p.m. (The execution of this program did not go according to plan. We started late, got lost on the way there, had many more rest stops than planned for, then got delayed on the way back thanks to Mumbai traffic. The whole hike itself (with breaks) took approx. five hours.)

Things to bring:
– 2 litres of water /Gatorade
– Lunch
– Hiking shoes (good to have)
– Rain jacket
– Change of clothes (assume it will rain)
– Mosquito repellent

Getting There: We need 2-3 cars, preferably with drivers, but we can coordinate that tomorrow.

Bombay is really quite an attractive city, especially if you go “high”; by this I mean look up at the gorgeous old buildings surrounding you throughout the city, and walk up around the hilly areas north of Chowpatty Beach – e.g. Malabar Hill and Camballa Hill.

In conversations with locals on how beautiful the old architecture is here, and whether or not there are plans to restore and preserve such buildings, I haven’t received very positive responses. I think this is largely due to the common misconception that “new” indicates to others (who are just as mislead) that you are “coming up” in the world – be it as an individual, family or even country. (I particularly noted this phenomenon in Bangalore, where many of the girls from the Community College would make a notable effort to turn up in a new outfit everyday. The girls who couldn’t afford to do this looked on with angst or complained. The CC coordinators and I discussed this misconception of “new”, especially within underprivileged communities, at length. They did their best to try and rectify the situation with the girls, without implementing a mandatory uniform. I strongly believed that in this context, a mandatory uniform would be an unnecessary expense (in terms of money and time) given the various other priorities the girls, and organization, should be focused on. I have no idea what CC coordinators said, but they must have said something because this “fashion show” seemed to take a back-seat.)

Anyway, back to the old architecture of Bombay. For the sake of Bombay’s reputation as a desirable residential and travel destination, I hope the majority of these buildings are restored and preserved. I hope the city looks to other reputable cities that have done the same – e.g. London, Paris, Copenhagen, Stockholm, the West Village and UWS of New York, the Rocks area of Sydney, etc. And I hope my children will be able to take photos of the same gorgeous old buildings in years to come.

A great book I finished recently, which I thoroughly recommend to everyone (independent of whether or not you are interested in social/non-profit work) is: “How Can I Help? Stories and Reflections on Service”, by Ram Dass and Paul Gorman.

What I appreciated most about this book was the concept of the “Ego Self” and the “True Self”. I’ve started asking myself that question a lot more recently; which “self” is speaking or acting?

Another interesting read I came across last weekend, while searching through the awesome book collection at the place we were staying at in Alibag/Awas Beach, was “Talks on Who Am I?”, by Swami Daya, that Swami Daya delivered to students at Gujurat University in 1983.

Here are some excerpts I took down…

Nugget #1:

Now I ask, who are you? “I’m the son/daughter of so and so.” But that’s not all you are and it’s only who you are in relation to another person/object. All you can really say is that “I am this physical body”.

I’d love for someone to use that line in a pick-up scenario ;-)…”So, who are you?” “I am this physical body.” Classic. Kind of like what the US comedian, Doug Stanhope, touched upon in one of his NYC comedy routines, when he complained about people identifying themselves with their star sign and using this to rationalize behavioral traits. He asked, “Why don’t people say, that’s my Ape coming through?”

Nugget #2:

We only experience fleeting joy when what we are seeking has been acquired/gained. Once we’ve acquired/gained what we were seeking, the process then starts again, and we start seeking something else. If we continue to seek, we will only ever experience fleeting moments of joy. We will never be able to experience joy as a constant in our lives. Swami Daya referred to this as the “seeker-saught” situation. I couldn’t find the exact “solution” to this problem (I was seeking it), but I believe one solution is to give up on seeking – a.k.a live in the moment, which I think I’m currently doing the majority of the time. I have an inkling I’ll come across more information on this while I’m here, but I’m not going to actively seek it out ;-).

Nugget #3:

“When a man/woman seeks recognition outside, when he/she wants people to recognize him/her, it’s not that he/she wants outside recognition – he/she wants recognition from himself/herself. His opinion about himself/herself is so demeaning that he/she wants somebody to give him/her recognition so that he/she feels acceptable. When someone expresses love at him/her, he/she wanders in disbelief because he/she is quite sure that he/she does not deserve to be an object of anybody’s love. That is why, after 20 years of marriage, the question, “Do you love me?”, remains. Nobody accepts himself/herself and he/she can’t ever accept “I love you” without a pinch of salt.

I’ll leave that one for you all to ponder over. I must say, I love the “pinch of salt” touch ;-).

P.S. If anyone has any tips/recommendations re: traveling in Himachal Pradesh, please send them on.

I’m fine. Thanks to everyone who inquired about my safety given the recent bombings in B’lore and the state of Gujarat. I really haven’t noticed the impact here in Mumbai (Bombay). I tend to think that because of India’s long history with terrorism and unjustifiable murders (especially those in the political arena), the event didn’t cause too much disruption or cause for angst across the country. Maybe I’m just oblivious to it all. I WAS out of contact with civilization from Friday to Monday. I was lucky to have a friend take me to Awas Beach, near Alibag/Alibaug, approx. 3 hours (driving time) south of Bombay.

From Friday to Monday we pretty much slept, ate, read, walked (when we could – the rain didn’t let up for long), drove (I also got a shot at driving – through flooded streets – lots of fun), and shopped for produce at the local markets (which included watching and photographing two chickens get slaughtered). The family that lived on the property as caretakers definitely took care of us. I was even treated to some cooking lessons and given the option to stay on to become the caretakers daughter. Albeit, she didn’t think I’d be able to find a husband in their village as she thought (ha ha) I was too educated. She did suggest that her daughter follow me up to Bombay and we try our luck together there. How true all of this was, I’ve no idea as I was relying on Dev as my translator and I wouldn’t put it past him to use some creative license ;-).

Visit www.flickr.com/libbyswan to see all my latest pics. Below is just a small selection, including a picture of the new Radisson in Alibag and our sweet caretakers.

Last week consisted primarily of class planning, teaching and re-writing/updating the Concerns Universe Foundation brochure, which included re-writing the organization’s mission statement. I’ve been working with Concerns on the later for the past few weeks, but wanted to get it finalized and to the printers last week, as I’m leaving Thursday for Bombay. We finally got it to the printers on Saturday. We’ll have 1000 copies delivered on Wednesday, just before I leave. The next step is to help them update their website.

From a teaching perspective, the highlight from last week was bringing Nerrel to class to help me teach the girls some songs. Here are the songs/selection of words that we taught them:

It’s a Small World After All

It’s a world of hope, and a world of fears,
It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears,
There’s so much that we share,
That it’s time we’re aware,
It’s a small world after all.

It’s a small world after all. It’s a small world after all. It’s a small world after all.
It’s a small, small, world.

(Nerrel went the extra mile to explain to the girls what this song was all about; although we might come from different “worlds”, we still share plenty of things in common – as human beings, and as women.)

Any Dream Will Do (from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s, Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat)

Group A: / Group B:
I closed my eyes / I closed my eyes
Drew back the curtain / Ah, ah, ah
To see for certain / Ah, ah
What I thought I knew / What I thought I knew
Far, far away / Far, far away
Someone was weeping / Ah, ah, ah
But the world was sleeping / Ah, ah
Any dream will do / Any dream will do

Top of the World (The Carpenters)

Such a feeling’s coming over me,
There is wonder in most everything I see,
And the reason is clear, it’s because you are near,
You’re the nearest thing to heaven that I’ve seen.

I’m on the top of the world and looking, down on creation, and the only explanation I can find,
Is the love that I’ve found, ever since you’ve been around, your love’s put me at the top of the world.

(I made up some actions for this song, which kept both Nerrel and I thoroughly amused.)

Overall the girls did a pretty good job, considering a lot of them can’t speak much English at all. Some of the girls really got into it, with facial expressions and all. For others I’m not quite sure they knew what was going on.

After my last post, I headed off to Pondicherry with the two French girls (Julia and Laura), Nerrel, and love-struck Shaun and Lizzy – not with each other, but with locals they were leaving behind in Bangalore. They reminded me of when I was 21 and leaving Barcelona, Spain.

It was a horrendous bus ride there. I had the middle seat in the back-row and nearly slid down the galley-way several times. At 5.30am in the morning, Lizzy nudged me and announced our arrival; I woke-up with a loud, “Shit!”, in response, which seemed to amuse everyone. My automatic response of, “Bullshit!”, to every auto driver’s first-offer to get us from the bus stop to some accommodation had the same effect.

After dropping our bags and taking a nap at the lovely, Lonely Planet recommended, “Patricia Colonial Heritage Guest House”, on Rue Romain Roland, we set off for a late breakfast. We settled on the beach café near the Gandhi statue as everything else seemed closed. Breakfast was quite amusing; Julia and Laura ordered plain croissants, and were served one cold almond croissant and one cold chocolate croissant, a good forty minutes later. I ordered the Tamil snack, Vada; Dosas weren’t on the menu. They weren’t too bad. The chutney did the trick. Again, those who know me well know I often like dips and sauces more than the actual dipping object. Kristy and Mike, if you’re reading this then I’m sure you’ll recollect the garlic sauce and “smell-my-fingers” incident, which I’ve retold a few times since being here ;-).

For the rest of the day, Julia, Laura, Nerrel and I left the love-struck ones to wallow in their heart-wrenching pain, while we set-off to wander around Pondicherry. At 2pm we wandered onto a street where there was a line of bare-foot people waiting to get inside an attractive gated property. We followed suit and left our shoes at the “shoe-garage” to join them. As we entered the property I figured it must be an ashram, but I didn’t know its name or anything about it. We followed the line of people through the ashram’s gardens and past (what I didn’t know was at the time) the “flower-festooned Samadhi (tomb venerated as a shrine) of Aurobindo and the Mother”. Only upon exiting through the ashram’s bookshop did I realize that we’d just been in the Sri Aurobindo ashram, the ashram Pondy is known for. In the bookshop I purchased a small book entitled, “Swami Vivekanada and Sri Ramakrishna, in Sri Aurobindo’s Writings” (see my previous post on the Ramakrishna Mission/Order).

After our ashram experience, we wandered a little more, then decided to take an auto to Auroville. I wasn‘t sure where in Auroville to instruct the driver to go, so I took a quick look at the Lonely Planet pages I’d ripped out and decided we’d go to the “physical center of Auroville”, the Matrimandir. So off to Matrimandir we went, without knowing exactly what the Matrimandir or Auroville was.

The auto driver dropped us off at the Auroville Information Center. On the way there, he drove us past the Matrimandir, which looks like a huge gold, golf-ball, that was teed off from Mars and landed on earth with a huge thump.

The Auroville Information Center gave us the low-down on Auroville and the Matrimandir. Auroville was founded by the Mother; the same woman whose tomb we’d just visited earlier at the Sri Aurobindo ashram. From what I read, I got the impression that Sri Aurobindo and the Mother (a Frenchwoman) hit it off at some point, and had more than just a spiritual connection, which bought the Mother from France to India. I could very well be wrong.

I was deeply impressed by the vision for Auroville – “…a place that no nation can claim as its sole property, a place where all human beings of goodwill, sincere in their aspiration, can live freely as citizens of the world…”. However, I was somewhat disappointed by the decision of those who founded Auroville to build the Matrimandir as it’s central “symbol”. Doesn’t the decision to construct such a huge structure, quite obviously costly, seem a little egotistical? And with so many other worthier priorities and things to spend money on, especially in India, why spend it on such a project? I’m sure someone can rationalize it for me, I’m simply noting that it was something I questioned.

Oh, and then there was nicest store I’ve seen in India; the Auroville gift shop – “Boutique d’ Auroville” . For a community that’s supposedly intolerant of material and monetary goals, and instead, believes in the exchange of goods and services for other goods and services, I found it surprising to find such a store in such a place. Another contrast perhaps?

Independent of whatever questions started circling through my mind, I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to Auroville and was very moved by it’s mission and goals.

We took a while to get started on Monday, Bastille Day. The extreme heat wasn’t helping. After lunch we decided to hire a few bikes to go to Quiet Beach, north of Pondicherry. Julia, Laura, Lizzy’s friend, Georgia, and I, stuck together and after riding (push-bikes) for approx. 40 min. we still had no idea where Quiet Beach was, so we took a side street which led us to “a” beach. It wasn’t that impressive, so we dipped our toes in the water then went back to Pondy. Julia nearly passed out on the ride back, so we stopped and forced fed her a banana and a mango juice – poor thing.

We all showered up at the guest house that Shaun and Lizzy had moved into with Georgia and Dan (Georgia’s boyfriend). It was then that I noticed this strange rash along the top of my back, which freaked me out a little. Over dinner we settled on the fact that it was probably heat rash/prickly heat; it disappeared about a day or two later. After dinner, Julia, Laura, Nerrel and I said our farewells and headed off to board the bus back to Bangalore. The trip home was better than the trip there, but still not great. I’ve decided that train travel is the best way to go in India.

I recently received an email from a reacquainted friend, in which she mentioned how her experience in India was “full of highs and lows”. I couldn’t agree more.

The highs being those experiences that enlighten you and/or choke you up.  The lows being the inexplicable way certain things still operate, e.g.,: the political system/government, and the ramifications this has on just about everything; the roles and expectations of men and women, across all “classes”; the belief that “betterment” equals material wealth (which I realize is a worldwide predicament that the livelihood of a many depend upon), etc. Oh, and then there’s seeing things like a crow eat the innards of a rat out from where-the-sun-don’t-shine. Not nice.

Given the blatant contrasts that continue to exist in what’s so often believed to be a “spiritually enlightened” country, I’ve even started to question just how “spiritually enlightened“ India really is.

During my time here, I was hoping I might find some real “nuggets“ to add to my own collection of non-denominational-life-operation beliefs, and maybe even find a single guru or religion that I thought had the majority of it right (in my eyes anyway). I’ve been able to, and will continue to do, the former, however, gone is my belief that I‘ll find the later, be it in India, or anywhere else in the world. I’m laughing at myself right now; how naive of me to think that any one thing or person HAS got the majority of it right, especially given that I’m such a critical and detail-orientated observer of both my own actions and others. I’m even questioning myself as I put this on “paper”.

Last Friday night, Bobby (Double B) and I went and saw the Bollywood film, “Love Story, 2050”, as we weren’t in the mood for going to some July 4th, Independence Day house party, with the rest of the crew.

We learned a lot about watching a Bollywood film in a Bangalore theatre that night.  Such as:
a) They don’t start on time.
b) The majority of audience goers at 10pm are men, independent of the film’s subject or title.
c) Before/after every ad (prior to the movie starting) you see a scanned image of some legal document that I assume provides assurance that the product or service being advertised is legally valid.
d) During the ad/preview session there was a music video, featuring what looked like fairly well-respected Indian singers, singing the national anthem, which everyone stood up for.
e) The big kahuna…Bollywood movies go for three hours and have an intermission!

I really wasn’t into the movie, so by intermission (an hour and a half in) I suggested we leave; Bobby didn’t object.

I think the movie we chose was a dud.  There was not a lot of dancing and singing, which we were hoping for.  I was, however, pleased with the fact that I got to see a lot of Western Australia, seeing WA acted as the film’s back-drop.

***

On Saturday, I woke early when my new roomy, Harsharn, arrived.  We set off on a walk to MG Rd. via some ritzy hotels for toilet breaks/a “look, see”, starting with The Park, then The Taj, then The Oberoi  When we arrived at MG Rd. I took Harsharn to the India Coffee House, where we sat and had breakfast (Masala Dosa and chai).

I had a head massage Saturday afternoon at the beauty salon around the corner from Shirley’s.  VERY different from my last massage experience.  Oil was still involved but there was no undressing ;-).

On Saturday night, a lot of us went to a rooftop club called Taika, on MG Rd.  Nerrel and I thoroughly enjoyed the 80s music that the DJ was rolling with.  I don’t think the “young-uns” appreciated it as much as we did ;-).  Bobby secured himself a spot on the club’s list of performers/rappers for Tuesday night.  Oh, and Shaun drove the auto home.   Nerrel and I edged him on from the back seat (see photos).

On Sunday morning, Shirley’s house reached capacity with the arrival of all the rest of the new-comers; Julia and Laura from Paris, and Nadia and Claire from London.

The rest of my Sunday is pretty much covered in the post below.

***

On Monday…Monday…what happened Monday?  Nothing special I don’t think.  Pre-school and class with the elder girls, as per usual.  We covered the vowel, “O”, but I’m struggling to think if we did anything else?  How horrible of me.

For lunch, Nerrel and I joined the new volunteers and the i-to-i country coordinators at some hotel downtown; nothing overly impressive.  I then took the French girls and another newbie to the Mysore Silk store and some other fabric store on Commercial Rd, and gave them the low-down on how fabrics are sold and how kameez and salwar are made.

***

On Tuesday, after class, I was taken to the other Concerns Universe Foundation’s community center in a noticeably more underprivileged district of Bangalore.  During my afternoon there I observed some distressing situations.

One was a 16 year old girl who had dropped out of school to find a job to support her family.  Her parents, for some reason or another, can’t work, and the responsibility to support her family of five has become hers.  She can’t speak English nor perform basic computing tasks, which severely limits her employment options.  The community center girls bought a local paper and started scanning through all the employment ads with her.  I don’t think they found anything.  Another limiting option is her unwillingness to travel too far from home.

The second situation was a woman suffering from TB.  She was as skinny as a rake, and from what I gathered, she was having problems with understanding how and when to take her medicine.  The community center girls helped clarify the situation for her.

The third situation was a distressed woman looking for her son.  He was supposed to be downstairs, but wasn’t there.  She was concerned as her son suffers from epilepsy, and she was looking to collect him so that she could take him to the home of her relatives in some other town.  Her husband had kicked her out that afternoon after a drinking episode.  Oh, and I forgot to mention that she’s suffering from some blood-related illness also, and can’t afford the drugs to treat herself or her son.

So Tuesday was pretty heavy.  I didn’t feel like going out that night, but I built up the stamina eventually.  Bobby was performing at Taika that night, which I couldn’t miss.  Approximately 18 of us (all i-to-i volunteers) went and it was lots of fun.  I felt more like I was in a Hip-Hop/Rap club somewhere in the US, than in Bangalore, India.  Bobby’s performance was short but awesome.  His stuff went down well amongst what I thought was a pretty tough crowd.

***

From Wednesday to Friday I was pretty busy with preparing classes, conducting classes and revising the Concerns brochure.  I don’t have long to go now in Bangalore, so I want to make sure I get everything finished that I promised I would, to Concerns and myself.

On Friday, yesterday, Nerrel came to watch me teach and to watch the class rangoli competition.  The girls produced some pretty awesome stuff.

As I said in my post below, tonight I’m off to Pondicherry with some other volunteers, so I’m sure I’ll be returning with some good stories and photos to share.

(Written, Wednesday, July 9th.)

That was weird.  My new roomy at Shirley’s, Harsharn, just pulled out a card from her wallet that was given to her by some stranger, coming out of a bank, nearby the orphanage she’s volunteering in.

On one side of the card is a picture of three elderly, spiritual-looking folks, sitting cross-legged – 2 male, 1 female.  On the other side of the card is a photo of an ashram on the banks of some lake or river, somewhere in Northern India.  Harsharn didn’t tell me this.  I happened to recognize the photo as I’d seen it just this past Sunday, in the grounds of a small ashram in Bangalore.

I had wandered into this ashram after having left Shirley’s place in Tippasandra approximately an hour and a half beforehand, at 6.30am.  I was pretty tired, my hip was sore and I had no idea where I was, which didn’t bother me as there’s always an auto going by (one of the many Indian conveniences).  This probably comes as no surprise to those who know me and are quite familiar with my “wandering and getting lost” behavior.  One of my best” wandering and getting lost” episodes was when I went running in the Hamptons while on a visit with my parents.  I had no phone and no idea where I was.  I stopped at a gas station on a main road and waited for several minutes before Mum and Dad miraculously turned up in their rental car.

Anyway, on Sunday morning I had intended to walk from Shirley’s house to the Lalbagh Botanical Gardens.  However, I was drastically taken off course thanks to a few “exploratory” turns.

When I entered the grounds of the ashram, I checked out the notice board (meditation and yoga schedule, “tuition teachers needed” ad, etc.), took down the details of the ashram as a text message (which I accidentally deleted afterwards, thanks to my pedantic cleanliness streak), then removed my shoes to walk around what seemed more like a gathering hall than a temple, set amidst a very well-kept and lush green garden with two huge statues in each corner – one of Shiva and the other of…not quite sure.

As I walked around the hall, I observed the various pictures and photos adorning the inside rim of the hall’s veranda.  Upon completing my circle, I noticed one photo in particular – the photo of the ashram on Harsharn’s card.  At the time, I admired its setting and location; spacious, green, and right on the banks of some lake or river.

I left the ashram’s grounds and took an auto to the India Coffee House on MG Rd. for breakfast; a Masala Dosa and chai (yum).  I entertained thoughts of coming back to the ashram later that afternoon for a meditation class.  However, given my early-morning walk, I was pretty buggered by the afternoon and thought I’d probably fall asleep if I was to go.

I didn’t think about the ashram again, until Harsharn showed me the card.  Now I’m a little spooked.  Maybe it’s a sign.  Maybe THIS is the ashram I should be visiting.  I do want to visit an ashram while I’m in India, but I’ve been a little confused by the various options available.

(Written, Friday, July 11th.)

I walked back to the small ashram before work this morning.  It’s actually the Vivekananda Ashrama on Swami Vivekananda Road, and is connected to the Ramakrishna Math/Mission/Order.  (Shirley and her husband, John, helped me figure out exactly where I’d been on Sunday morning, thanks to my description of what I’d passed and what I’d seen.  It seems I made a huge circle and was nowhere near the Lalbagh Botanical Gardens.)

Once again I found the photo of the ashram on the inside rim of the hall’s verandah that’s also on the card Harsharn gave me.  The ashram in the photo is actually in Belur Math, Calcutta, and is considered to be the “headquarters” of the Ramakrishna Order.  I took a video of the Belur Math photo and the Vivekananda Ashrama grounds to show Harsharn once I got home.

And guess what?  The symbol for the Ramakrishna Order is a swan.  I think I’ll have to check the Order out in further detail and maybe even visit the headquarters in Belur Math, even if it’s only for a “look, see”.

On another completely separate note…

It seems that far too much has happened since I last wrote to actually go into detail about it all now.  All good, all eye-opening.

I’ll write more about what happened this past week, tomorrow, before I head off to Pondicherry for the weekend and Bastille Day (Monday) with some of the other volunteers, including the new French girls.  Pondicherry (or Pon-dish-errrr-ee, as the French girls say) is a French colonial town on India’s mid-East coast; close to Chennai.

Nerrel called me yesterday after her second afternoon with the teenagers she’s recently started tutoring. She was telling me how they had a sing-along session, similar to the one we (i-to-i volunteers) were having on the roof of Mrs. Katari’s (sp?) guesthouse the other evening. She told me how she got choked up in the middle of the experience, and that’s when we started discussing the concept of “choke-up moments”, and just how many we’ve had since we’ve been here.

Choke-up moments = Those moments where all sorts of feelings hit you at once, your eyes get moist, and you do your best to stop any tears from escaping the creases of your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

The first choke-up moment that I can remember, was on either the first or second day I had with Nerrel at the pre-school, in the Jeevanahalli district of Bangalore. All the kids were seated on the floor (thanks more to the efforts of Lalitha, than Nerrel or me) and looked up in shock/awe as Nerrel and I performed the dance moves that accompany the “Chicken Song”.

I don’t know exactly what it was about that experience that caused it to be a choke-up moment. I think it was a combination of a few factors: being in an underprivileged urban district of Bangalore, entertaining the children of hard-working, disadvantaged mothers, with a very awesome and impressive woman (Nerrel) that I’d never met before.

I had another choke-up moment yesterday as I left the ~35 girls I’m teaching English in the CUF Community College classroom that CUF has rented in one of the local Jeevanahalli schools (at quite a price, I must say). I spend approx. 1 to 1.5 hours with these girls each day. (I have a day off today as it’s a public holiday for many, including the CUF Community College – some Hindu holiday/celebration beginning with “B”.)

In the first week, I planned and executed classes that focused on specific themes: self, inspirational/admirable females, local festivals and celebrations, local news, and environmental problems in their communities and potential solutions. The idea was to get them to start thinking and bonding with one another.

I hope the girls found each class as beneficial as I did, from a eye-opening/learning experience. I was hoping to introduce the concept of “reduce, reuse and recycle” to them with the class focused on “environmental problems in your community”. How naïve/“Western” of me. Their communities are still dealing with issues of sanitation, access to clean water, waste disposal, the correct keeping/housing of farm animals, etc. They’ve got much more basic problems to solve for first.

This week (my second week with these girls) I started going through vowels and the various ways in which each vowel can be pronounced, as well as words that begin with each vowel and how these words are used in sentences. So, Monday was the letter, A, Tuesday, E, Wednesday, I, and I’ll have to do O and U together tomorrow, unless I decide to make Friday “Fun Day” and do something different, leaving O and U for next week. (Sorry, that was one of those moments where I’m having more of a discussion with myself “out loud”; some of you are quite familiar with this habit of mine.)

Despite the seemingly dry subject matter this week, going through the words I’ve selected for them to learn and explaining them and how they are used has been fun. It’s been very satisfying to watch the looks on their faces as they “get it”, grin then help explain it to a struggling neighbor.

I like it even more when they laugh at me, so I will do stuff or say stuff (often unintentionally) to invoke their laughter. What gave them a kick yesterday was when I was explaining the word “item”. I was telling them that I was wearing two items of clothing. Then I corrected myself and said I was actually wearing five items of clothing – I’d forgotten my singlet, bra and underpants. This seemed to thoroughly entertain them.

As I left class yesterday I got a loud and resounding, “by Aunty”. Even thinking of it now I’m having a choke-up moment. As I asked the other CUF teacher/coordinator in the classroom with me yesterday to provide feedback on my teaching and how she thought the class went, she said something along the lines of, “I can see you are getting attached already”, with regards to the students. I am. And I know that attachment will grow stronger with each day. It’s going to be a tough process to eventually leave. And I’m sure there will be plenty more choke-up moments between now and then.

(And no, Mum, it wasn’t me who told those kids how to poke out their tongues for the photo above. They did that all on their own!)

Mysore Adventures:

Last weekend, Bobby, Lizzy, Nabeellah, Nerrel, Shaun and I took a train down to Mysore, Saturday morning. When we got to Mysore, we headed straight for lunch at the restaurant, Indra Café’s Paras, recommended in the Lonely Planet. Afterwards, we spent a good hour or two wandering around the impressive Delaraja Market directly opposite the restaurant. (I‘ve posted some photos featuring the various market delights, to www.flickr.com/libbyswan soon.) After the market, we took an auto to the base of the 1000 stairs that wind their way up to the top of Chumundi Hill.

As I have a habit of doing with such physically intense activities, I steam-rolled ahead and got the 1000 stairs out of the way before I could even think about them. Shaun stayed with me for most of the journey, while the others meandered along and some even debated continuing. We all made it, eventually.

Once everyone (bar Nabeelah and Nerrel) were at the top, we sat down with our recently purchased, hard-to-come-by-in-India sodas (Mountain Dew and Diet Coke) and began to admire the view over Mysore and the temple behind us, while some of the local boys (who seemed to know the capital city of every country) hassled and entertained us as they tried to sell us postcards for “their school”.

Then Nabeelah and Nerrel arrived, and that’s when the drama started to unfold. As Nerrel climbed the stairs with shouts of joy over her recently purchased Diet Coke, two monkeys ran up to her; one grabbed at her leg and the other went in for a bite. The “postcard sellers” quickly ran to her side and scarred them away. Given none of us could see any holes in her clothing , we were all pretty shook up (can you imagine how Nerrel must have felt?) but feeling OK, as it appeared the monkeys hadn’t punctured her skin.

We walked around the outside of the temple for a bit before I decided to inspect the area on Nerrel’s leg that the monkeys had gone for, and where she was feeling some pain. Although there wasn’t an open or bleeding wound, we could both see three distinct red marks, kind of like blood blisters. This frightened us a little. But we were frightened even more when another group of monkeys decided to go after the group of us. Why? Bobby was holding a bag containing food. BIG no, no. No one was attacked this time but it was enough to shake some of us (Nabeelah, Nerrel and I) off our ledges and scramble to get off the hill, this time via bus.

We eventually all got back to the hotel where Bobby, Lizzy, Nerrel and Shaun were checked into for the night. It was another drama to get into the room without a key, followed by an entertaining call with the i-to-i in-country coordinator; “Oh my God!” is not the response you want to hear in such a situation. Shaun checked in with his GP Dad in Scotland and it was decided that Nerrel would be taken to the hospital in Mysore to get an anti-Rabbies shot that night.

Nabeelah and I said our goodbyes and boarded the train for Bangalore, leaving the others to embark upon their hospital adventure. I later found out that they had the fabulous experience of having to find a chemist for the Rabbies shot that the hospital would then administer, in a power-outage. We’ve all become quite accustomed to power-outages here, but sometimes they’re really, bloody, inconvenient!

The Ayurvedic Massage:

When I woke up Sunday, after having said goodbye to Nabeelah a few hours before (she left for the airport around 2am Sunday morning) I walked from Shirley’s guesthouse to MG Rd, consuming a somasa or two along the way, before making my way back to New Tippasandra with the help of an auto. When I got back to Tippasandra Road I decided to take myself for an Ayurvedic massage. What an experience that was!

When I entered the massage room that the facility’s host directed me to, I was greeted by a fairly frail lady in her 70s, or potentially even 80s. The room was kind of dingy with two massage tables – one padded, one not – and a gas-burner of some sort in between. (I quietly prayed that I’d be instructed to lie on the padded massage table and not the metal one.) The little old lady, who later introduced herself to me as “Patmina” (I think) instructed me to get undressed and, unlike they do in the Western world, she did not leave the room as I did so.

Once I’d striped down to my undies and sports bra she pointed at both items and gestured that they should come off also. She then instructed me (with hand gestures) to sit (stark naked) on a little stool before she poured oil down my hair part and started massaging my head. I was then instructed to lie face-up on the massage table – the padded one, luckily – and I watched her poor a strange-smelling oil (something that began with “N” and ended with “…juana”) into a bowl. As I watched her hold the bowl with metal clamps over the flame of the gas-burner, I observed her shaky, early-signs-of-Parkinsons grip, and I hoped that I wasn‘t about to experience the pain of hot oil on my skin. When the first drop of oil hit my skin, my fears subsided – it was comfortably warm.

The hour long massage proceeded. It was very relaxing and I noticed myself drifting off a few times. Every time I started to drift Patmina seemed to sense it and said something that I could not understand; either way it brought me back to consciousness. By the end of it, I was covered in approximately 2 inches of oil, head to toe, front to back.

Once the hour was up, she asked if I wanted to bath. I had to say “yes”. I was literally soaked in oil and there was no way I was about to dress myself in that state. So, she gave me a small bar of soap and a small package of shampoo (which she nipped at the corner with a pair of scissors) before walking me (stark naked) to the traditional Indian style bathroom where a bucket was being filled with warm water. She stood at the door as I began the process of washing myself. I guess she was intrigued as to whether or not a foreign, white woman would wash herself in the same way she would. Did I wash down as far as “possible”, then up as far as “possible”, as my father would say? She left me to do my thing after a few awkward moments. I guess my washing procedure wasn’t that much different than hers.

I did my best to dry myself with the two towels she left me. They were more like cotton tea-towels/dish-cloths, than thick, Western-style, bath towels. When I got back to the massage room, she looked at me and chuckled, sat me down on the same little stool I had my head massage on, grabbed another tea-towel like cloth and proceeded to manually dry my hair with enthusiastic vigor. I don’t think someone’s dried my hair like that since I was five.

The photos above are from last weekend’s trip to Hampi, which I’ve also uploaded to www.flickr.com/libbyswan.

PLUS, if someone in the US would be willing to buy some Lipton “Iced Tea to Go” packets, and send them to me, I’d love it! These are what I’m looking for: http://www.liptont.com/our_products/iced_tea_to_go/ttg_iced_pink_lemonade.asp. Email me at libby at libbyswan dot com if you’re up for the challenge ;-).

People who have been to India often say that the experience is an “attack on the senses”. I now understand why, and it’s for that reason that I’m really starting to love my time here. Funnily enough, I didn’t consciously realize this until yesterday. It hit me as I was walking to collect Nerrel for work, and I heard the “soap-boy” guy calling out what sounds like “soap-boy” (but really is “sapoo”, which means green leafy vegetables) from somewhere close by. I usually hear him as he cycles past the guest home in which I’m staying, early in the morning, along with the call of the “I know” bird. I call it the “I know” bird because it sounds like it’s calling out “I know”. I was told by the husband of my host, that it’s actually a minor bird. Either way, both sounds are pleasant alternatives to the rude-awakening of a traditional alarm.

On my way to collect Nerrel every morning (except Saturday or Sunday), I will often walk by: various species of cows, some of which feed directly off low-hanging tree leaves; several stray dogs, often sifting through small piles of rubbish on the roadside; a few workmen and workwomen, prepared to haul and heave for the day on local construction sites (very impressive to watch); and a few other people, who look set for various other daily activities, especially IT-related, given the www.website-name-here.com t-shirts many adorn.

I also frequently get a whiff of a manure-slash-urine concoction (albeit, not as frequently as I did in Hampi), some rotting fruits, and the sweet smell of a jasmine hair train.

The taste of Shirley’s sweet, milk, tea, usually lingers in my mouth and I start to think about the evening meal Shirley will be preparing for us that day. Shirley is the owner/manager of the guest house that I’m staying in with some of the other volunteers. She is an absolutely fabulous cook, so much so, that I’ve only eaten out approx. 3 times during the week since I’ve been here. I really have no idea of what I’m eating half the time, but it’s always so, so, SO, good.

Every walk I take here I’m entertained by something that appeals to, or shocks, my senses: the fabulous, ornate, chalk + something-else-that-produces-red-marks, designs that many home-owners draw on the roadside in front of their front door/gate; or, as I saw yesterday, an open-air funeral down a side road that seemingly lasted most of the day (it was there when I went to school in the morning, and when I returned in the afternoon).

Yesterday, I also had the pleasure of purchasing and eating a freshly steamed corn cob from a push-cart going by. It was sprayed with lime juice, rubbed in chili-salt, then handed to me in a corn-husk.

I could go on and on about all the “little things” that call my senses into action here on a daily basis. They all continue to enthrall and draw me into the local way of life; just as I had hoped ;-).

Had a great first week.

Tuesday to Friday, Nerrel (another Aussie volunteer) and I played with and entertained the kids at Concerns Universe Foundation’s (CUF’s) community pre-school in the Coxtown-Jevanahalli district of Bangalore. The pre-school was set-up to look after the young children (aged two to five) of women in the community who are working as house maids or in other similar vocations.

We weren’t doing it alone; there were/are two other young Indian women who work in the pre-school. Usha (sp?) and Lolitha (sp?). They’ve both taught me a lot in terms of strategies and actions to use to quieten/calm-down crying kids who won’t stop asking for Mummy.

Nerrel and I utilized some strategies of our own also: coloring-in books and colored pencils, Pez dispensers and candy, stickers (stars), bubble-blowers, and books. We tried to introduce the kids to something new everyday. On Friday we purchased some noise making instruments, including two drums, to introduce to them this week. One of the little boys, Daniel, “air-drums” to every song that gets played, so we figured we’d get him something to bang ;-).

Had a great weekend also. The other five volunteers (who arrived into Bangalore at the same time I did) and I, took an approx. 8 hours bus trip to Hampi, a World Heritage site renowned for it’s Hindu temples and ruins. I think Hampi can only best be described in pictures, so I’ll try and post some soon.

Just one of the many highlights from the weekend included getting caught in monsoon-like rain, while driving scooters. We looked like drowned-rats by the time we got back into the main part of town, which was absolutely deserted as everyone had retreated indoors.

Today, I taught my first class. It was very fun/satisfying. (This is teaching the young women at CUF’s community college. I went there after spending a short amount of time with the kids at the community pre-school this morning.)

At the end of my class, I gave the girls some homework – poor things. They’re to think about a female/woman that inspires them/they admire. They’ll have to report out tomorrow in groups.

My goal while I’m here is to get them comfortable with speaking basic English and to ensure they stay motivated to continue with their community college classes (10 months in duration) and the desire to keep educating themselves.

P.S. I forgot to mention another highlight from Hampi – enjoying a live poetry-slam performance by fellow volunteer, Bobby Williams (aka Double B), on the top of a rocky-outcrop at sunrise. Check him out: http://www.myspace.com/doubleb. We filmed his performance and hope to get it onto YouTube soon. These Internet Cafes however, make the upload process painful…

(Written Tuesday, June 17th)

My fourth day in Bangaluru – aka Bangalore. First impressions? Tough to summarize. Having visited Vietnam last year, I think I was better prepared for the chaos that develops when you have small-town roads/urban-planning supporting not-so-small-town populations. Approximately 8 million people now live in Bangalore.

Most locals acknowledge that Bangalore’s reputation as a garden city has been tarnished thanks to the on-going commercial and residential development largely in relation to the establishment of Bangalore as the “Silicon Valley” of India. I have, however, been impressed by the flora that I have seen. It’s very similar to what you’d see in my parent’s home-state, Queensland, Australia.

A lot has happened between when I arrived and today, so I’ll share with you one story for now…

On the flight from London I met Asha, who invited me to her cousin’s wedding celebrations. I could only make Sunday’s celebrations, which focused on the groom.

OK, I met a girl on a flight who invited me to the wedding of her cousin. How did that happen?!? Long story short, when I boarded the BA flight from London to Bangalore, I went to sit in my assigned seat (29H). The lady I was about to sit down next to (Pushba) asked if I would mind swapping seats with her cousin (Asha) whom she just met in the airport for the first time. I agreed, and went and told Asha that she had a new seat next to her cousin, Pushba.

I then settled into my new seat (Asha’s old seat) and met my new neighbors. Soon after a BA steward came down and told me that the two ladies I did the swap with (Asha and Pushba), had a spare seat next to them, and wanted to know if I wanted it. I jumped, for I knew the seat had far more extra legroom than the one I was in.

So that’s how I came to know, Asha, and her cousin, Pushba. We chatted and discovered we had similar interests, especially when Asha pulled out the Ray Kurzweil book, “The Singularity is Near”.

The wedding celebrations that I went to on Sunday were great. The entire experience was greatly enhanced thanks to the amazingly generous, warm, large and close knit family that Asha belonged to. One of Asha’s cousins asked me how I’d summarize the day. My immediate answer was “warm”. There was warmth being shared and on display everywhere.

The day was full of amazing new experiences. Too numerous to go into detail. Some of the highlights included: the various meals, drinks, and sweets that I did my best to consume throughout the day; learning more about the story of Rama and Sita, as well as the wedding celebrations/traditions that were taking place in front of me; learning about Asha’s family and interacting with them all, including her well-traveled, well-educated, philanthropic-orientated, wise Aunt, Lilly, aged somewhere in her 80s; napping at Asha’s home; being dressed in Asha’s sari for the evening’s celebrations.

In two days (Thursday), I leave for Bangalore (officially, Bengalaru), India. I’ll be using this blog to update family and friends (and whomever else) on my travels through India over the next 2.5 months.

In case you were wondering, who, or what is, Saraswati?

To quote from http://www.koausa.org/Gods/God10.html:

“Saraswati is the Goddess of leaming, knowledge, and wisdom. The Sanskrit word sara means “essence” and swa means “self.” Thus Saraswati means “the essence of the self.” Saraswati is represented in Hindu mythology as the divine consort of Lord Brahma, the Creator of the universe. Since knowledge is necessary for creation, Saraswati symbolizes the creative power of Brahma. Goddess Saraswati is worshipped by all persons interested in knowledge, especially students, teachers, scholars, and scientists.

Two swans are depicted on the left side of the Goddess. A swan is said to have a sensitive beak that enables it to distinguish pure milk from a mixture of milk and water. A swan, therefore, symbolizes the power of discrimination, or the ability to discriminate between right and wrong or good and bad. Saraswati uses the swan as Her carrier. This indicates that one must acquire and apply knowledge with discrimination for the good of mankind. Knowledge that is dominated by ego can destroy the world.”

As a female Swan, who loves learning, and is visiting India in the hope to learn more about life and share my love for education and learning with others, I was quite captured by the Goddess, Saraswati. (Oh, and for those of you that know me well, you know how much I love milk. Esp. a non-fat, tall, “steamer” (yes, that’s what it’s called), with extra foam.)