Indian tales: The highs and lows of Goa yoga

Earlier today I had my last yoga practice in Goa. I was on the roof of a one-storey building – the kitchen for the beach huts where we’re staying. As I went through my standing postures, an old bloke was shimmying up the surrounding coconut palms, sending ripe coconuts crashing to the earth below. I faced the ocean and breathed with the waves.

Tomorrow we leave Goa and head to Mumbai for two nights before flying home to London. I’ve been thinking about the yoga I’ve practiced over the last two weeks. Here are some things I’ve learnt and perhaps you’ll find them useful too.

Drop-in classes: a mixed bag

You just really don’t know what you’re in for. On Christmas Day morning I went to a led Ashtanga class with an Indian guy called Deepak. His adjustments were a little unconventional (verging on dangerous) and I felt my body tense whenever he moved near me. He was as bendy as the bendiest bendy thing and didn’t seem to show much empathy for Westerners in their first ever yoga class.

Other classes were lovely but just going to one class then trying a different class the next day doesn’t allow a student/teacher relationship to develop. Consistency is key.

Immersion is good

Katharine and I stumbled upon the Indian Shanti Yoga Festival and it became one of the highlights. At a plush beach resort in Ashwem, we spent three days surrounded by yoga addicts and a schedule that ran from 8am to 10pm… all for £25.

I reconnected with Sivananda yoga through classes with Nataraj, the Director of the ashram in Kerala where I’ve spent time previously. Witnessing him in his baggy Sivananda yellow t-shirt and white trousers just made me feel so happy. He looked a bit at odds with girls wearing tiny lycra shorts but the atmosphere was very welcoming and inclusive.

There was a lot of bhakti (devotional practices). The festival opened with a homa (fire ceremony) to Lord Ganesha. We all offered something to the fire – something we wanted to cast aside for 2014. Swamis from various Indian ashrams taught classes and led the chanting of Sanskrit bhajans.

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(Anand led the Ganesha homa.)

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(Swami Sugoshananda: “Everything happens as planned and it is for our own good.”)

I also went to a Bhagavad Gita talk, taught by an elderly New Yorker with a huge white beard, long hair and piercing blue eyes. He reeled off the slokas (verses) in Sanskrit. Hearing the words of Krishna to Arjuna with his accent: “Hey Arjuna, so you gotta fight people you care about. But you just gotta do your duty!”

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Acroyoga is awesome

Acroyoga founder, Jason Nemer, taught at the festival.

With one person being the base, another the flyer, and another the spotter, we did some therapeutic flying. We practiced giving each other massages in ‘folded leaf’ and worked on backbends suspended in the air in ‘high flying whale’. We did handstands holding onto the backs of your partner’s ankles while they were in a high plank.

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(Me being a high flying whale.)

I like the philosophy behind the practice. It’s about building trust and confidence through letting go. The flyer has to resist any urge to control and you are totally in the hands (and feet) of your base. It’s playful, fosters closeness and you learn a lot about your partner. The sessions open and close with kirtan – chanting in a circle, developing togetherness.

Jason will be teaching five days of acroyoga at Triyoga in London later this year.

The final day included four hours of Thai Yoga Massage run by the acroyogis. Thai massage is seen to be a complementary practice to the more acrobatic side. I like this. It’s the yin and yang idea. The massage is the yin (calming, cooling, slow, soft) and the acroyoga is more dynamic, energising and fast-paced.

Summing up

Some of my most enjoyable yoga moments have been my self practices but I’m also looking forward to going home and getting back to classes – both teaching and being a student.

I know this trip has been about relaxing, spending time with my sister and also doing some yoga, but if I were to return to India for yoga, I’d do a period of study with someone who can help develop my practice. I’ve got my eye on David Garrigues’ intensive in Kerala in 2015, a trip to Mysore or even a retreat with David Keil at Purple Valley in Anjuna.

That’s the joy of yoga. There’s always more to learn and India is always calling.

Classes start back in London and Hertfordshire from 12 January and the first yin/yang workshop at Breathing Space in Harpenden will be on 18 January. My first BAYoga Studio yin workshop is on 1 February.

Happy new year everyone.

Om shanti.

Indian tales: At home with the Dabholkars

For anyone who read my blog while I was away last year, you may remember talk of my adopted Indian family – a local family whom I had the honour of befriending via daily harmonium lessons with the grandad – ‘Babaji’. Over three weeks, my daily visits lengthened and became the highlight of my stay in Arambol. Read last year’s blog post.

In the house, the sons (Chandrahas and Srinivas) live with their parents (Maji and Babaji), their respective wives and an assortment of children. I am yet to totally work out whose children are whose.

Maji, though wizened and hunched, definitely rules the roost. She’s always been painfully shy around me though I have gathered that she likes my clothes and thinks I’m respectful. I bring my hands in prayer and bow slightly when saying hello and goodbye to her. Points to The Wener.

When I knew I would be returning to Goa, one of the first things I did was send them an email.

Yesterday we popped by for tea and a spot of Indian TV. Here are some of the highlights:

Chandrahas provided a TV commentary: “This is comedy programme. You can tell by the size of his moustache.”

I asked why so many Indian men had moustaches. He said it’s a sign of manliness. I asked why he didn’t have one. “It would be grey in colour” came his reply. The children laughed. They understood more English than they felt comfortable speaking.

We also watched a short programme where actors played parts of Hindu gods and goddesses. Ganesha looked fetching with a trunk down over his stomach and Shiva was very stern with his hair piled up on top of his head.

Then Chandrahas told us we were watching a drama about some families. It sounded like Eastenders but with more exaggerated expressions and dramatic music. It seemed to be a family favourite.

Tejas stayed very quiet but opened up talking in English about his favourite subjects: WWF wrestling and cricket. He informed us that England is losing in the Ashes. “It is a total whitewash.” He is about 10.

Sweda, Chandrahas’ wife, was not allowed into the living room as she had her period. She sat on a chair in the doorway and craned her neck round, eager to be included. She wasn’t allowed to touch us. Srinivas’ wife affectionately held Katharine’s hand as we sat. There was a lot of love in the room.

A neighbour popped by and looked taken aback to see the two of us sitting there. Sweda said, “She is asking how we know you. She is very surprised that you are our friends.”

Siddesh asked Katharine if someone coloured her hair. She was told it looked like Lady Di’s.

20140103-165137.jpg (Lady Di and the Dabholkars)

Maji brought us chai and Indian sweets in what looked like the family’s finest crockery. We drank the tea and politely ate the sweets – homemade laddus. For anyone unfamiliar with laddhus, these are balls of what Katharine described as compressed sand. I’d say they’re a bit like sawdust. You need to drink tea at the same time otherwise they coat the inside of your mouth in a claggy paste.

We ate them very slowly, nodding, making the right noises and smiling our appreciation. “You like them?” asked Chandrahas. We nodded and smiled lots. Out came two more. We ran out of tea.

After two hours Srinivas took us home on the back of his motorbike. The family waved us off.

On Monday, we’re going back for dinner and then we’ll all go to their temple for a puja (ceremony). Sweda told us that her period will be finished by then. I said that I look forward to being able to hug her.

It was so lovely to see them all again. Babaji held my hand as we said goodbye and said little. The family seemed much more relaxed than when I spent time with them last year. It felt like they were just seeing old friends and were less ‘on show’.

They made us feel so welcome and I can’t wait to go back on Monday. We’re not entirely sure what we’re in for but we know it’ll be memorable.

We’ve been lucky to get a glimpse into everyday Indian family life. They’re kind hearted and a truly wonderful family.

20140103-165246.jpg (from left: Srinivas, Siddesh, Priya, me, Shardha, Pradnya, Tejas, Sadanad, Chandrahas)

Indian tales: Plain sailing trains and automobiles?

I’m in Goa for Christmas and New Year with my sister Katharine. We’re spending time on the beach and doing some yoga.

For the first five days, we’ve been in southern Goa in Patnem. I’ve been to a few yoga classes and hung out with some friends from home.

Today we left for North Goa, Mandrem to be precise. Both Katharine and I know that train journeys are always an experience and it felt time to get in touch with the real India – away from the British families and the music of Amy Winehouse and Bob Marley that we’d been hearing incessantly. The day proved to be a true Indian journey in every sense.

The plan was to get a taxi for an hour to Madgaon station – the main train station in Goa – and then get a train north to Pernem. From there, it was a short hop and a skip to Mandrem.

Trains
We were told that there was a train from Madgaon at 2:40pm. This was backed up by the internet.

We arrived at Madgaon station and got in the queue for tickets. Almost instantly I had to tell a bloke to get behind us as he tried to queue jump. For the next 30 minutes he pressed his body up against my rucksack on my back and complained that we were leaving too much of a gap in front of us. Indian men have no sense of personal space.

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(Ticket office. It looks quite calm in a photo. It wasn’t.)

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(Katharine on the platform)

A young girl was ahead of us in the queue. She had a beaming smile and big brown eyes. She asked us where we were from and made polite conversation in impeccable Indian English.

Men queue jumped ahead of us. Sweat trickled down my legs and arms. People shouted and gesticulated. And then we were at the counter. Katharine got jostled out of the way and suddenly all these hands holding filthy dog-eared rupee notes forcefully pushed their way under my arms, over my shoulders and through the tiny hole in the grubby perspex to the cashier.

Whoever was the loudest appeared to get served next. “Two for Pernem” I said in my biggest voice. By the fourth time I’d said it, I had her attention.

“Madam, train is at 6pm.”
“There’s a train at 2:40!”
“No madam, 6pm. Come back later.”

And with that, I was consumed by the crowd and found myself cast aside. Buggery bugger. We double checked at the information counter (more jostling). 6pm it was. The young girl found us and stood nearby while we discussed our options.

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(Madgaon station ‘rogues gallery’. I’d like to start a campaign to get one of these at Harpenden station.)

Automobiles
Cheated of our train journey, we found ourselves in the queue for the prepaid taxis. The board said that the fare was the equivalent of £15. Our train tickets would have been 30p each. We grumbled.

Again we were at a counter.

“We want to go to Madrem.”
“1750 rupees.”
“But the board says 1500 rupees.”
“Diversion for a festival. It will take longer. The price is 1750 rupees.”

We said we wanted to pay the board price. They stood their ground. We stood our ground. The locals joined in. Why do they always do that?

We begrudgingly accepted and got shown to our taxi. We questioned our poor elderly taxi driver. I’ve never seen such pronounced cheek bones in my life. I don’t think he was in possession of his teeth. He didn’t know of any diversion. Everything seemed to confuse him.

The faff continued. We gave in and off we drove.

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Plain sailing
There is always a part of me that mistrusts these exchanges. Are they trying to get the better of us naive foreigners? You hear of so many scams that it makes you sceptical.

I remember turning up jetlagged at chaotic Delhi station about ten years ago with my dad to be told by an ‘official’ that our train was cancelled and we needed to give him our tickets. He was lying and we knew it.

Travelling around India on public transport is tiring and often doesn’t go according to plan but it’s also the most rewarding part of visiting the country. In Goa it’s easy to remain in your beach resort eating chips. Or you jump in a taxi and stay in your own little cocoon.

I’d still say that I love train travel in India. Chatting to families on platforms, sharing snacks with locals in your carriage, asking the chai wallah for a cup of that boiling sweetness, watching the vibrant countryside slide by hour after hour. Yes the toilet might be a hole in the floor through which you can see the speeding tracks below, but believe me, these are the magical moments.

This country has me under its spell. It teaches you patience and acceptance and tests you every day. Don’t ask me why but I love it.

Have you been to India? Any of this sound familiar? Or maybe I’ve made you think that this country isn’t for you. Feel free to comment below.

Teacher interview: Lila Conway

As part of a new series on the blog, I’ll be interviewing various yoga teachers – each with their own story to tell. The first of these is Lila Conway.

I first met Lila on my Sivananda teacher training in 2010. Having signed up for the month-long course in the Himalayas, I simply wanted to deepen my understanding and learn more about the practice. I had no plans to ‘be a yoga teacher’. In the final week, she sat us all down and said that it was our duty to share our new knowledge with people back home and teach. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Here she talks about her love of India, Sivananda yoga and teacher training.

CW: Tell me about your first experience of yoga.

Lila and I at the Sivananda ashram, Kerala
Lila and I at the Sivananda ashram, Kerala

LC: In the early 90’s I was living a typically fast paced, hectic lifestyle working 24/7 in the London fashion industry. It was really demanding and competitive and I often used to feel physically ‘burnt out’.

It made me start questioning the meaning of life and I started searching how I could lead a more peaceful existence. I found ‘The Book of Yoga’ by Sivananda and started practicing at home. Although I found it a bit weird at first, I really began to feel a sense of peace after chanting mantras and practicing Tratak (candle gazing).

Soon after, I made the decision to leave my London life and take a year out travelling. Everything moved quickly from then on. I went to a yoga class in Thailand and was hooked… it was really my first deep experience of true connection, peace and healing.

CW: How do you bring the practice of yoga into your every day life?

LC: Yoga is a way of life, it’s not something we do only when we step on a yoga mat. And so I try to see everything as an offering – whether it’s preparing a meal, teaching a yoga class or gardening. We are divine consciousness itself and yoga is a means and a method to awaken to that realisation.

The moment I wake up I offer gratitude and repeat a mantra. I do the same before I go to sleep. My daily practice routine is that I start the day with a small Puja (devotional worship of deities) to connect to my spiritual teachers and God. I think it’s a beautiful way to begin each day – offering light, incense, flowers and water to the divine. I then sing some devotional mantras, do some breathing exercises, mantra meditation and yoga asanas.

The practices we do in yoga are varied according to the path you follow. Flexibility, peace of mind and improved health are all wonderful side effects of the practice. However, keeping the ultimate goal in mind keeps me motivated and committed to the practice.

Yoga is a process of awakening consciousness, removing the layers that obscure our inner divinity and ultimately returning to the eternal abode of love. Every small act we do helps in this process of evolution.

CW: Who or what inspires you?

LC: Wow, so many things inspire me! Nature, life in all its forms, seeing the transformation yoga brings to people. My students inspire me so much too. I’m also inspired by spiritual texts such as ‘The Bhagavad Gita’, the healing power of raw food, plants and herbal medicine.

I have such deep gratitude and inspiration for my first teachers – Swami Sivananda and Swami Vishnudevananda – for giving me a strong foundation in my spiritual life.

I also am inspired by various spiritual Masters and their service, humility and pure love: Bhaktivinoda Thakura for the poetry and beauty of the Bhakti yoga tradition, Amma for her message of love and service, and BKS Iyengar for being a living legend in Hatha Yoga.

The list really could go on and on!

CW: You’ve spent lots of time in India. What do you feel makes the country so special?

LC: It’s the land of the Rishis (sages), saints and yogis. The ancient texts of the Vedas were revealed to the Rishis in India. Lord Krishna, Buddha, Jesus and many incarnations of God have appeared in this sacred land.

The people of India teach me so much: patience, tolerance, acceptance, surrender, simplicity, devotion, faith, family values… so many qualities.

India has a wonderful way of magnifying my inner stuff and things I need to deal with in my life. Although not always comfortable at the time, it definitely helps to have an internal spring clean and I always feel better for it!

My greatest moments of inspiration often come in India. The place makes me feel alive and at home. I love the culture, food, language, temples, music, colours, smells (well… most of them), smiles, frustration and the joy that this magical country brings.

CW: How come you’ve spent so much time there?

Lila plays harmonium during satsang on a teacher training course
Lila plays the harmonium and chants during satsang on a Sivananda teacher training course

LC: I first went to India to study yoga and stayed in the Sivananda ashram in Kerala. I stayed so long my teachers advised me that the next step was doing a teacher training. I completed the course in 2001 and it was a huge journey and personal transformation.

It didn’t just ignite a spark but a raging fire!  I couldn’t walk away from this whole new world that had opened up to me so I stayed on as voluntary staff.  Three months became nearly eight years spread across both India and Canada.

Every year I was actively involved in many yoga teacher training programmes, including advanced teacher training courses. I would assist the main Hatha yoga teacher in all classes and demonstrated postures, adjusted students and taught a little. I was trained slowly and systematically over a period of seven years.

In 2007 I was given the authority to teach yoga teachers and taught my first course in Canada.  Although I left the ashram in 2008, I continued to return to India each year to teach on training courses at the Sivananda ashram in the Himalayas – where I met you! This year I am very happy to be back in India teaching my own teacher training course in Rishikesh.

CW: What do you enjoy about training people to teach yoga?

LC: Swami Vishnudevananda beautifully put together a month-long intensive yoga teacher training course unlike any other. It is an intense programme which is a systematic introduction and direct experience of the traditional yogic lifestyle and system of learning in the Gurukulam way (meaning teachers and students live together).

As the course is residential and the programme is from early morning until evening, we spend the full month working with the students and supporting them. I feel very blessed to be part of this journey in people’s lives and I do my very best to represent my Guru and his teachings. It’s a wonderful exchange of energies.

I feel alive and challenged and even though I have been teaching for many years, I always learn so much every time. We go through the highs and lows together and by the end of the course students are always positive, inspired, shining and full of energy. It’s so good to see and it really inspires me seeing the effort, commitment and heart that each teacher trainee puts into their practice and the course.

CW: What qualities do you feel make someone a good yoga teacher?

LC: The highest quality is humility. When a yoga teacher is humble, they remain open for the divine energy to flow. A yoga teacher is a channel for the ancient teachings and always has the student’s best interests at heart and never teaching to impress or for name and fame.

A good yoga teacher always remains a student and shares from direct experience and a proper understanding of the spiritual teachings and discipline of this beautiful science.

CW: What’s in store for you over the next few months?

LC: Excitingly, I am in the process of writing a new manual for our next teacher training course in Rishikesh in October.  I am also busy in communications with Swami Guruprasad in India – we are running the course together.

We are also working on some short videos of Swamiji so students can get an early peek of his wonderful words of wisdom.

My Bhakti Yoga teacher from India is coming soon so I will be fully immersed in his teachings for a week. This will give me a huge boost of inspiration ready for our August weekend yoga retreat near Bath, ‘The Heart of Yoga’ for which I am preparing some beautiful heart opening practices and have some amazing friends also coming to give talks, kirtan, delicious food, massage and more!

I’m also getting ready for a new term with Yoga Prema in Bristol. And then before I know it I will be on a flight to India for the October yoga teacher training course!

CW: Thanks Lila. Good luck with it all!

To learn more about the Rishikesh teacher training course Lila talks about, visit the Yoga Prema website.

Find out about my time helping out at the Sivananda ashram in Kerala last year.

Lila mentions Amma. Also known as ‘the hugging mother’, I visited her ashram. Read a post about the experience.

The force is strong with this one…

Last week I received an email offering me the opportunity to help on a yoga teacher training taking place in October in Northern India.

The email came from Lila Conway, a wonderful yogi who first taught me how to teach a few years ago in the Sivananda ashram in Uttarkashi in the Himalayas. We’ve stayed in touch and I even bumped into her in Kerala last November.

The course will be wonderful. Based at the Yoga Niketan Ashram on the bank of the Ganga in Rishikesh, it will be four weeks full of devotion, fun and hard work. It’ll be a memorable and life-changing experience. I thought long and hard about whether to accept such an incredible opportunity.

I declined. On this occasion it doesn’t work with other commitments I’ve got at home in October. I know we can make it work another time and I know this will be the first of many that she’ll run. If you’d like to find out more, visit www.yogaprema.org.

But what is it about the pull of India? I was talking to a friend the other day who came back around the same time as me last December. She’s returning later this month – for how long, she’s not sure.

I know I’ll be back. If not October then perhaps at Christmas. India is an addiction. It does your head in, assaults you in every possible way but she’ll win your heart and you’ll keep going back for more.

Another yoga friend came back to the UK a month ago and, like me, she’s considering whether life in London is for her. She’s turning her back on a stressful job and instead wanting to do work that makes her happy. She wants to rent out her high rise flat in East London and move somewhere a bit more green.

It’s nice to know that I’m not alone in my thinking. Staying connected to my practice will keep me grounded until I book that flight…

Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together

Some of you may be wondering how I’m settling back in to life in the UK after five months away. Well, I can say that’s going alright. I went away to deepen my yoga practice and I feel that it’s paying off.

Gratitude

Last weekend I skyped my thumb chum Laurie who I met in Thailand doing my 500 hour training. We talked about how our five weeks of learning ashtanga has benefitted our yoga practice immeasurably.
Michel adjusting me in class
Michel adjusting me in class

A year ago I was tentatively dipping my toe into a beginners ashtanga course prior to going away.  Now when I practice ashtanga, it feels like a pure meditation. Every movement flows with the breath and, ok, so I forget the sequence from time to time but it works. It makes me feel so alive.

Since being back in the UK, I’ve had teachers come up to me at the end of classes telling me that they could watch me practice all day. They’ve asked me where I learnt ashtanga and I tell them to seek out Michel Besnard. I am so grateful to him and Roslyn.

I remember him saying that the gift he was giving us was an ashtanga Mysore self practice but really he’s given me so much more than that. I’ve learnt so much about myself and I love Michel’s motto of ‘who cares!’ Who cares if you can’t do a backbend/sit in lotus/ lift your leg as high as the person next to you etc etc. Just enjoy your practice.

Laurie was saying the same thing. She’s based in St Louis, Missouri, and is now on the teaching faculty of a 200 hour yoga teacher training at the studio where she works. We feel so lucky to have had the experience.

Yoga Hall St Albans

This week I covered my first class at the Yoga Hall in St Albans. Run by Laura and Finlay, they follow a disciple of Swami Vishnudevananda’s, Faustomaria Dorelli.

I feel that everything that I’ve learnt over the past few years is coming together in my teaching. Before my time with Michel I would never have focused so much on standing postures or suggested to

Swami Sivananda
Swami Sivananda

students that they lift their middle toes to engage the muscles in their legs. In the class at the Yoga Hall I threw some yin postures into the mix, whilst also teaching some Sivananda-based pranayama and relaxation.

While students laid in savasana, I speedily made herbal tea in the kitchen for everyone after class. Swami Sivananda looked on with his reassuring eyes from a picture on a cupboard door, and a postcard of Swami Vishnudevananda was blu-tacked onto the wall above the mugs. It’s a lovely place and I feel at home there. Their satsang/chanting evenings once a month are wonderful too.

Yoga Harpenden

I’m also lucky to have met an ashtanga teacher out near me in Harpenden who is fast becoming a good friend. In jolly proper Harpenden you’d be hard-pressed to find many Californians who’ve lived in  ashrams and follow silent gurus… but I found one! April is inspiring me to keep up my daily practice and we have plans to run a local ashtanga/yin yoga workshop together.

I’ve also decided that after ten years, I’m done with living in London. I’m happy to work in an art gallery there for a couple of days a week but it feels too busy and stressful. Hertfordshire’s fields, fresh air and friendly people are a-calling. I just need to work out how I can afford a car and a flat. I can’t live with my parents forever…

Any of my 500 hour training buddies reading this? How has the training affected your practice and teaching? Feel free to leave your comments below.

Om shanti.

Parting thoughts

I’m on the beach at Kovalam watching the sun set on India for the final time. I recognise a middle-aged couple from the Sivananda ashram standing in the shallows watching the sun too. They both wear silver om necklaces and look sun kissed.

I walk towards them and they welcome me like a long lost friend. We didn’t speak once at the ashram. They say in broken English that they speak no English. I tell them that I leave for London tomorrow morning. They leave for Berlin in two day’s time.

She mimes singing and points at me. They must have heard me leading a chant during satsang. “Sing… engel” she says pointing at me. She points to her forearm and mimes what can only be goosebumps. “Singing… engel” she says again. She beams at me and touches my arm tenderly.

I thank her for such a wonderful compliment and we part. I continue to walk along the beach letting each wave wash over my feet. Tears spring from my eyes. India is beautiful. Whatever you offer to Her, she returns it ten-fold.

I walk further along the beach. The glamorous girl who played terrible Russian pop music in the dorm is sitting on the beach watching the scene. We wave to each other from afar.

Groups of Indian boys throw sand at each other and boldly ask me how I am. Young couples in love take photos of one another. Indian women in drenched salwar kameez sit on sun loungers waiting for their daughters to finish playing in the water.

Stephen from the ashram is throwing a frisbee in the air, trying to catch it. He goes to the Putney Sivananda Centre from time to time and lives in Plymouth. He talks enthusiastically about how yoga saved him from an unfulfilling life down the pub. “Pubs contain such dark energy, don’t you think?”

The End?
Thinking about my time away since July, my goal was to practice and increase my knowledge of yoga and I certainly feel like I’ve achieved that.

From my five weeks in Koh Samui with Michel Besnard and the gang, I learnt so much about Ashtanga yoga, my own body and about other types of yoga such as Yin and Acro. My teaching will never be the same again.

20121219-164535.jpgThe Absolute Yogis

I learnt what it means to be ‘yo-glam‘ on Koh Phang An, and I can now give Thai Massage based on the time I spent in Chiang Mai.

Koh Phang An gang
Koh Phang An gang
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Thai massage girlies

I was also glad to have the opportunity to catch up with my yoga buddy Sherylee and her husband in Sri Lanka.

20121219-164756.jpgThree on a motorbike: with Sherylee and Brett

During the two months I’ve been in India, I witnessed the madness of Osho’s glitzy ashram and felt Amma’s love through her ‘darshan’ or blessing. In Goa I was barked at for two weeks doing Iyengar and I got to see the big man himself in Pune.

20121219-165131.jpgHangin’ in Goa

I’ve had a go at learning the harmonium and gained insight into the daily life of an Indian family courtesy of Babaji and the Dhabolkars in Arambol, Goa.

20121219-165319.jpgBabaji

And I ended it all back where it started in 2009 in the Sivananda ashram in Kerala. It was wonderful to share some of it with my Mum and Dad and my sister.

20121219-170153.jpgWith Mum and Dad in Kerala

20121219-170348.jpgWith Kaths in Thailand

The sun has set and it’s time for my final meal. I feel sad but happy and blessed to have had this entire experience. I know I’ll be back. India does that to you. The yoga helps too. It certainly brings people together.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my blog while I’ve been away. Thank you for all the comments, encouragement and the personal emails prompted by my witterings.

From next year I’ll continue to write about yoga related things. Have lovely Christmases and New Years and remember to stay positive and follow your dreams.

Hari om tat sat.

And now the end is near…

Yes, this is my last day away from the UK. In the early hours of tomorrow morning I’ll fly from Trivandrum to Mumbai and then home to London.

For the past two weeks I’ve been at the Sivananda ashram at Neyyar Dam, Kerala, and today I’ve come to seaside Kovalam for some present buying.

Indian Christmas
I’ve only just realised that it’s Christmas. In shops I’ve spotted my first tinsel of 2012 and Indians celebrate by hanging star-shaped paper lanterns outside their houses.

The only hint of Christmas at the ashram was on Friday evening when some ‘carol singers’ turned up. I use the term loosely as it comprised ten children and adults standing around banging drums and singing something incomprehensible. A Santa dressed in a creepy mask, pointy red hat, red robe and white surgical gloves danced manically hitting his ankles. It was like Morris Dancing gone even more wrong.

From the nearby temple you could hear 84 year-old Swami Gayatriananda (a small Indian lady and regular at the London Sivananda Centre) and others chanting the 1000 names of the Divine Mother. It was very surreal. So no Noddy Holder shrieking “It’s Chrisssmaaaaaasss” for me yet this December.

Home sweet home
It was lovely to be back at the Sivananda ashram. I was last there in 2009 and that visit prompted me to do my teacher training at their small ashram in Uttarkashi in the Himalayas the following year.

The ashram is pretty basic. There were about 60 of us in the women’s dorm but at least we had bed frames (a step up from Amma’s). They have recently added air-conditioned rooms which I feel is going against the spirit of staying there.

The first bell of the day rings at 5:20am getting you up for morning meditation and chanting. During the two daily meals (10am and 6pm) you sit on the floor in silence eating food with your hand from a metal plate. The schedule is intense and everyone gets rather excited about the chai (with sugar!!) served prior to the morning asana class. Lights out is at 10:30pm. To stay in the dorm, you pay £6 a day for everything. It’s a yoga all-inclusive and serves as a good introduction for those who want to know more about yoga as a way of living.

About ten days ago I bumped into Lila (who taught me how to teach at Uttarkashi). She suggested I asked if they needed any help teaching and before I knew it, I was dressed in white and yellow assisting the afternoon intermediate class. I ensured that people flexed their feet, followed the eight steps into headstand and relaxed deeply in savasana.

20121219-155529.jpgLila and I

Over the next few days they got me teaching parts of the classes so the main teacher and I worked as a tag team. In some classes there were 50 or so people and the main Shiva Hall was rather intimidating with its high ceiling and busts of masters Swami Sivananda and Swami Vishnudevananda looking down on you. When they were short-staffed I taught the full two-hour class. It was a great feeling to be back where it started for me, but this time playing a more active role.

The silent walks to the lake were magical and I led a couple of chants during satsang. We had a musical group entertaining us one evening and, on our day off, some of us visited Kanyakumari – the southern-most point of India and a pilgrimage site for Hindus.

People at the ashram were from all over the world and who’d have thought that I’d be practicing my Italian sitting in chai shops or discussing the sights of Highgate in North London. I even met a lovely man but that’s all I’m saying about that for now.

20121219-155309.jpgChai with the Italians

Have you been to the ashram? What are your memories? I’m off to pack my bag for the final time…

The mother of all hugs

I’ve just spent a week at the Mata Amritanandamayi Math ashram in Amritapuri, three hours south of Cochin. It’s the home of the female guru Mata Amritanandamayi, commonly known as Amma or The Hugging Mother. She gives people a blessing in the form of a hug and has blessed over 30 million people worldwide thus far.

In fact, I’ve tried to have a hug twice before at Alexandra Palace in London on her world tour but for one reason or another I’ve left hug-less. I was hoping for third time lucky in India.

20121205-123000.jpgThe lady herself

Amma’s teachings are all about ‘Bhakti’ or devotion. The ashram sits where she was born and her family knew something was up when, as a toddler, she sat meditating for hours. Much to her father’s frustration, she used to give away their possessions to the needy and devotees started visiting her when she was still a teenager. She believes that anyone can be healed through love and I read about how she cured a leper by licking the pus from his angry wounds. She’s now in her late 50’s and the ashram is home to thousands of people from India and the rest of the world.

I’d heard mixed things about the place. I’d been told it was a bit weird and full of grey-faced Western women wearing white. I’d also heard that it was worth a visit and I was eager to experience it for myself.

My room
I checked in and made my way up to the tenth floor of Amritanjali block. Accommodation was basic to say the least. In a three metres squared room were three of us girls sleeping on mattresses a few inches thick. At least it was clean and the views were stunning. The ashram has the only high-rise buildings for miles around and are bright pink. We looked out over a never ending carpet of coconut palms, the Keralan backwaters and the Arabian Sea. Below were crows and pigeons flapping and sea eagles soaring. Every morning at 6:30 I visited the balcony on the ninth floor and joined a group of eager yogis for our morning self practice. It was wonderful.

20121205-123214.jpgMorning yogis

B.A (before Amma)
Amma was due back from her world tour but no-one knew exactly when. Despite Amma’s teachings, there didn’t seem to be much love between the devotees.The place was a hive of frantic activity and tempers were short. I saw one woman lose it when she got wet paint on her beautiful white sari and another lady started having a go at a girl for putting a chair in the wrong place. Everyone looked knackered and no-one returned my smiles.

I visited the ‘seva’ desk to be issued with my task or ‘karma yoga’. I got allocated cleaning rooms and toilets and the idea is that you do it selflessly with no expectation of reward. The seva coordinator was a guy in his thirties and I learnt that after meeting Amma twice on tour in Canada, he decided to get rid of all his possessions and move to the ashram for five years. “When you meet your guru, you just know” he said.

In the lead up to Amma’s return I heard many stories like this and listened with interest. I was told that everyone has a ‘the moment I met Amma story’. She is revered like a god and she’s beaming at you everywhere – on stickers in the lifts, posters in our bedroom, even from photos attached to street lights around the ashram.

I tried to remain positive but the atmosphere was oppressive. I hoped it would change on her return. It didn’t help that the daily schedule was almost non-existent. The highlight of each day was the evening chanting in the Kali temple. I wanted to be part of it but I didn’t want to buy the six different chant books. Elderly Indian women fell asleep slumped in chairs and the enthusiastic bell ringing was deafening.

If she hadn’t been arriving imminently, I would have left.

I got along with people who had arrived the same day as me: namely Sayuri from Japan and Ernst from Holland. Ernst is the wisest and most mature 20 year-old bloke I’ve ever met. Sayuri is lovely and nutty and she told me that she was tall for a Japanese person. She’s still shorter than me but we felt tall next to the ageing Indian women squished up against us in the lifts.

There was also a very friendly and smiley Swami who chatted to Ernst and I at meal times. He comes to meet Amma twice a year from a Sivananda ashram in Pallakad, Kerala. I was delighted to find out that his name was Swami Rajananda, meaning ‘the king of happiness’ or bliss. How very apt.

A.A (after Amma)
And then three days ago She arrived. The last time I saw such hysteria was from grown women trying to catch a glimpse of Gary Barlow and the boys at Wembley. “She’s coming! She’s coming!” People lined the path into the ashram as her car drove past at the speed of the Popemobile. My room mates and I watched from a respectable distance as we observed the goings on around us. She waved and people threw themselves at the car.

The next day there was a meditation on the beach at sunset. She sat on a raised platform resplendent in a voluminous white sari surrounded by ashram kids and the resident dog, Bhakti. Amma spoke through an interpreter about how we have to rid ourselves of our ‘vasanas’ or tendencies such as negative thinking or judging people by chanting our mantra. Devotees talked emotionally about how their lives had been turned around by her. And then we were told that those leaving the following day could have a hug. I wasn’t totally sure when I was going to leave but Ernst ordered me to get in line.

After about 15 minutes of typical Indian queuing (ie. much jostling and confusion), my turn arrived. Swami Rajananda was in front of me and I watched as a guy gripped the back of his head and pushed him into Amma’s plentiful bosom. She bear-hugged him and spoke into his ear. He was given a Hershey’s chocolate kiss as prasad and then I felt hands propelling me into her arms.

My face squished into her sari folds and the smell of rose enveloped me. I realised she was having a conversation with Swami Rajananda and held me for what felt like an eternity. Then she put her cheek to mine and whispered something in my ear that I couldn’t make out.

I stumbled back into the throng of people and watched her hugging others. I couldn’t stop smiling and felt like I was floating. I was all warm and tingly.

I made my way to an aircraft hanger hall and Amma started chanting bhajans backed by a full band of musicians. It was wonderful. Flailing her arms in the air, she built the crowd up into a frenzy of ‘jai mas’ and ‘shanti oms’ and I was overcome with emotion.

I found myself thinking about the last time I’d had a similar hug and I was transported back to being a little girl and getting cuddles off my Dad’s Mum in her kitchen in Finchley Central. Because of my height and the fact that she was a slightly larger lady, you’d be suffocated by her cleavage and her special smell. You were left in no doubt about how much she loved you.

Sitting on a plastic garden chair in that vast hall, I was overwhelmed by feelings of love. I knew that I was loved – by my Nanny, by my family and friends, and by Amma. And I wasn’t the only one overcome. Two seats from me was a lady dabbing her eyes with the corner of her sari and there were many others.

They say that she’s the Divine Mother and who knows, perhaps she is. What I know is that I’ll be there when she comes to London next year. Anyone coming with me?

Om shanti.

Read more about Amma.