Saturday, January 10, 2009
Matthew. Jan 11, 2009
It is Sunday morning. Linda and I went up to the ashram at 4 am to see what might be happening in the celebration of the 129th birthday or Jayatri of Ramana. There were a lot of people there and some ceremonies and some music seemingly left over from the festivities of the night before which was full moon night – a monthly celebration where thousands of people walk around the mountain Arunachala which is celebrated as a manifestation of Siva under his aspect of fire. The temple we are going to visit tomorrow at Chidambaram is dedicated to Siva as lord of the dance or Nataraja. We performed the circumnambulation or pradashka earlier in the day starting at 6 am on the inner path, not on the noisy dirty streets. We were told that this inner path is dangerous (symbolism) but we found a very good guide. The president of the ashram actually came out to reassure us. The whole journey is 10 km (6 miles) and took about 4 hours with some stops at temples where priests were performing poojahs or ceremonies receiving grace from the deity. It was very nice to be on the side of the mountain as the sun came up with the clouds covering the top as Siva slept as Saran described it.
Backtracking :Kachipuram is renowned as one of the monastic centeres presided over by one of the representatives of Shankara, a jadaguru. It is also famous for its silk saris many of which are interwoven with gold and silver and are thereby quite heavy. About 80% of the population of Kanchi (200,000) and its surrounding region, depend on handweaving for a living workin in homes and coops. Some of these workers are school age children and become bound to the loom owners through a system of loans to the families. There is an organization called RIDE – Rural Institute for Development Education which is mandated to free children from these circumstances and to place them in their own transition schools for 6 to 12 months. There are many ways that RIDE can provide access to volunteer work in teaching, training councelling. They also have a program where they will provide accommodation and food and show you over their programs for a fee. Another way they assist is to put tourist silk buyers in touch with sellers who support child free labour.
Backtracking 2: Mahabalipuram was hit quite hard by the tsunami of some 4 years ago. Following this it has become quite a center of orphanages but it was pointed out to me that many of the fund raising that takes place for the children is really exploiting them for their begging potential when they should be in school or playing.One has to do ones research if you want to help and not run the risk of contributing to a corrupt exploitative organization. From a slightly different point of view while we were going around the mountain yesterday we were approached by a couple of older ladies who adopted the most plaintive expressions as they held out their hands for some little offering. Saran warned us that their expensive nose piercings indicated that the were in fact rich. He managed to get from them that they owned the land we we were on and that they had sons overseas who sent them money. He gave them 1 Rupee as humiliation (about ½ cent).
I am going to try posting pictures again and will try to add captions if it works.
It is Sunday morning. Linda and I went up to the ashram at 4 am to see what might be happening in the celebration of the 129th birthday or Jayatri of Ramana. There were a lot of people there and some ceremonies and some music seemingly left over from the festivities of the night before which was full moon night – a monthly celebration where thousands of people walk around the mountain Arunachala which is celebrated as a manifestation of Siva under his aspect of fire. The temple we are going to visit tomorrow at Chidambaram is dedicated to Siva as lord of the dance or Nataraja. We performed the circumnambulation or pradashka earlier in the day starting at 6 am on the inner path, not on the noisy dirty streets. We were told that this inner path is dangerous (symbolism) but we found a very good guide. The president of the ashram actually came out to reassure us. The whole journey is 10 km (6 miles) and took about 4 hours with some stops at temples where priests were performing poojahs or ceremonies receiving grace from the deity. It was very nice to be on the side of the mountain as the sun came up with the clouds covering the top as Siva slept as Saran described it.
Backtracking :Kachipuram is renowned as one of the monastic centeres presided over by one of the representatives of Shankara, a jadaguru. It is also famous for its silk saris many of which are interwoven with gold and silver and are thereby quite heavy. About 80% of the population of Kanchi (200,000) and its surrounding region, depend on handweaving for a living workin in homes and coops. Some of these workers are school age children and become bound to the loom owners through a system of loans to the families. There is an organization called RIDE – Rural Institute for Development Education which is mandated to free children from these circumstances and to place them in their own transition schools for 6 to 12 months. There are many ways that RIDE can provide access to volunteer work in teaching, training councelling. They also have a program where they will provide accommodation and food and show you over their programs for a fee. Another way they assist is to put tourist silk buyers in touch with sellers who support child free labour.
Backtracking 2: Mahabalipuram was hit quite hard by the tsunami of some 4 years ago. Following this it has become quite a center of orphanages but it was pointed out to me that many of the fund raising that takes place for the children is really exploiting them for their begging potential when they should be in school or playing.One has to do ones research if you want to help and not run the risk of contributing to a corrupt exploitative organization. From a slightly different point of view while we were going around the mountain yesterday we were approached by a couple of older ladies who adopted the most plaintive expressions as they held out their hands for some little offering. Saran warned us that their expensive nose piercings indicated that the were in fact rich. He managed to get from them that they owned the land we we were on and that they had sons overseas who sent them money. He gave them 1 Rupee as humiliation (about ½ cent).
I am going to try posting pictures again and will try to add captions if it works.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Matthew II
Well Eleanor beat me to the draw with yesterdays post ansd I am probably going to leave her to describe today's.
I wanted to describe our second taxi driver and the trip from Mahabalipuram and the whole topic of traffic. the taxi which turned up to bring us the 2-3 hour trip from Mahabalipuram to Tiruvanamalai was not big enought o carry us and all our luggage - a lot of luggage! - comfortably. So Patrick found another one which had a roofrack much to the chagrin of the driver and henchmen of the first taxi. The sidekicks of the second cab told us that "the driver looks like a tiger" and I expected a fierce and possibly large and angry man. He turned out to be rather slight and gentle mannered but with a strong presence. It was when he smiled that his tiger like quality manifested most clearly , a face full of flashing white teeth and a certain wrinkling of the cheeks was very tiger like but I might not have recognized it if it had not been suggested. His driver was likewise calm and frugal, quietly powerful. Anyway to talk about the ttraffic in general. It is incessant, fast, noisy and colorful and it is hot here. Drivers use their multitoned horns constntly to warn you of their presenceSome are more judicious and selective that others but the overall result is an indescribable cacaphony. It works out for the most part but one does see many people and digs with crippling injuries. Motorcycles, taxis, autorickshaws, buses trucks and bicycles - all making a variety of noises. Motorcyles around 100 - 125 cc prdominate and it is not uncommon to see a family of four going about their business on one machine. It si also striking to see ladies in the most beautiful saris sitting side saddle on the back of a motorbike amid the grime an hubbub of the streets. And then to try to descibe the utter chaos of the motion of the traffic. We took an autorickshaw downtown last night, Patrick Linda and I to get food and to visit the huge Arunachulaswara temple. The road were blocked solid and our driver took us in any direction that offered the most miniscule opening between huge vehicles and pedestrians legs. I could reach our and touch other vehicles at almost any time and it might be moving in any direction relative to us. The atmosphere outside of the main gate of the temple was electric, crowded with sadhu's, beggars school children, families and the inevitable cows and dogs wandering around aimlessly. We asked at a fruit stand for a resteraunt and were directed to a very aggreeable vegetarian place we we ordered the sumptuous and inexpensive special. The bill for the three of us including coffee, tea, dessert and soup and appertizer was about $7.
We then visited the temple a huge rectangular place of about 25 acres surrounded by 30 foot
andwith massive towers at each of the cardinal directions covered in elaborate sculptures. There was an Elephant inside giving blessings or darshan. If you placed a coin in his trunk he tapped you on the head and not so softly. We were engulfed by a group of school children for a while visiting from another province. At one point some other people started geeting us and kissing our hands and I had visions founding a new (false) religious movement but we managed to disentangle ourselves fairly quickly. We then got another rickshaw back to the ashram and bought some food for breakfast as we had arranged for a guide to take us around the mountain starting at 6 am in the morning.
I will try to get back soon with some more serious topics - education, philanthropy etc.
Excuse my spelling - I am rushed for time in these internet cafe's.
Speaking of which -it is time for lunch- following the mountain circle - more of which later maybe from Eleanor or Linda.
I wanted to describe our second taxi driver and the trip from Mahabalipuram and the whole topic of traffic. the taxi which turned up to bring us the 2-3 hour trip from Mahabalipuram to Tiruvanamalai was not big enought o carry us and all our luggage - a lot of luggage! - comfortably. So Patrick found another one which had a roofrack much to the chagrin of the driver and henchmen of the first taxi. The sidekicks of the second cab told us that "the driver looks like a tiger" and I expected a fierce and possibly large and angry man. He turned out to be rather slight and gentle mannered but with a strong presence. It was when he smiled that his tiger like quality manifested most clearly , a face full of flashing white teeth and a certain wrinkling of the cheeks was very tiger like but I might not have recognized it if it had not been suggested. His driver was likewise calm and frugal, quietly powerful. Anyway to talk about the ttraffic in general. It is incessant, fast, noisy and colorful and it is hot here. Drivers use their multitoned horns constntly to warn you of their presenceSome are more judicious and selective that others but the overall result is an indescribable cacaphony. It works out for the most part but one does see many people and digs with crippling injuries. Motorcycles, taxis, autorickshaws, buses trucks and bicycles - all making a variety of noises. Motorcyles around 100 - 125 cc prdominate and it is not uncommon to see a family of four going about their business on one machine. It si also striking to see ladies in the most beautiful saris sitting side saddle on the back of a motorbike amid the grime an hubbub of the streets. And then to try to descibe the utter chaos of the motion of the traffic. We took an autorickshaw downtown last night, Patrick Linda and I to get food and to visit the huge Arunachulaswara temple. The road were blocked solid and our driver took us in any direction that offered the most miniscule opening between huge vehicles and pedestrians legs. I could reach our and touch other vehicles at almost any time and it might be moving in any direction relative to us. The atmosphere outside of the main gate of the temple was electric, crowded with sadhu's, beggars school children, families and the inevitable cows and dogs wandering around aimlessly. We asked at a fruit stand for a resteraunt and were directed to a very aggreeable vegetarian place we we ordered the sumptuous and inexpensive special. The bill for the three of us including coffee, tea, dessert and soup and appertizer was about $7.
We then visited the temple a huge rectangular place of about 25 acres surrounded by 30 foot
andwith massive towers at each of the cardinal directions covered in elaborate sculptures. There was an Elephant inside giving blessings or darshan. If you placed a coin in his trunk he tapped you on the head and not so softly. We were engulfed by a group of school children for a while visiting from another province. At one point some other people started geeting us and kissing our hands and I had visions founding a new (false) religious movement but we managed to disentangle ourselves fairly quickly. We then got another rickshaw back to the ashram and bought some food for breakfast as we had arranged for a guide to take us around the mountain starting at 6 am in the morning.
I will try to get back soon with some more serious topics - education, philanthropy etc.
Excuse my spelling - I am rushed for time in these internet cafe's.
Speaking of which -it is time for lunch- following the mountain circle - more of which later maybe from Eleanor or Linda.
1-9-09
Today was a wonderful day! It was very eventful despite being totally spontaneous and unplanned. We moved from the room at the Ashram to a hotel room after breakfast because people can only stay at the ashram 3 days and we'd been there 4. Our new hotel is a bit on the dirty side. The bathroom is especially bad - Dad found a giant (3 inches long) roach in his bathroom, and I am grateful to have the room I am in. I was surprised how much I minded; I thought dirtiness wouldn't be a problem for me because I love being outside and camping and dirt doesn't really bother me. It turns out that, while nature dirt doesn't, people dirt does. Ah well.
After we moved,we all decided what to do because no one, not even Mom, had formulated solid plans for the day. Patrick went to the Internet cafe to work, Mom hiked up to the caves Ramana Maharshi lived in, Dad went to the P.O. to figure out how to ship a beautiful we bought, and I did laundry in a bucket. By the time I'd finished my laundry and hung it on the clothesline, Dad was back, but Mom and Patrick Weren't. We decided to go to lunch, even though it was a bit early. We went to Manna cafe, but I was a bit disappointed because they were still serving breakfast and I was craving lasagna. Maybe we'll go back for dinner.Not a fantastic day so far, you may think. It gets better.
Dad pointed out as we were leaving the cafe that he had yet to ride in an auto-rickshaw. So we decided on the temple as our location, hailed ourselves a rickshaw, bargained for a bit, and took off. I've noticed that things can take longer in India, especially when bargaining is involved, because sometimes the best tactic is to simply walk away and find another driver who oversaw your previous encounter and knows you mean business. The Arunachaleswar Temple is spectacular. It is all carved out of white marble and is not painted; I like the comparative simplicity. Of course, it was still intricately carved, but this time, the statures were close enough to the ground to be truly appreciated. Right after we had walked in, I heard a distinctive noise. I turned to Dad and said "Is that an elephant?!" We started running because we saw other people running and didn't want to miss the show. We did not; there was a huge male elephant who was giving Darshan, blessings. Luckily, I had a few coins, so I took one out and put it into the elephants trunk. After receiving the coin, the temple elephant smacks you on the head. I had expected something somewhat more gentle than the clout I received, but it was still and e\incredible experience to be blessed by an elephant. I offered Dad a coin as well, but he declined, saying he was scared of elephants. Rightfully so! After that relatively light tap on my head, I truly realize how big and powerful elephants really are.
We walked around the temple for a bit, gave some rice cakes to the poor, and left to climb the mountain to the caves. I hoped to meet up with Mom, but knew it was unlikely because she'd been gone so long already. On the way to the caves, we were surrounded by schoolchildren (it was a holiday today - for what, I do not know.) and I had both my pens and one pencil, voluntarily, taken from me. They were very excited about their pens. One little girl, 10 years old, followed us for a ways before turning back. She was quite sweet.
We got to the lower cave without much difficulty. It was very noisy inside. At first I thought there was water rushing by, unseen behind the wall separating us from the rest of the cave. Then I realized it was actually somebody's stomach gurgling! A little while after we left, we talked to a young Australian man. He said he'd been in Tiruvannamalai for about a month and that every time this man was there, he actually made his stomach gurgle. Rather selfish I think! "I don't know what kind of yoga he thinks he's doing", said the Australian, "but after a while he falls asleep and then he snores and it echoes around the cave." After the Aussie took off, we met a few of the young Sadus I'd met on the mountaintop yesterday. They were coming down for supplies. They offered me some chai, but I declined. After visiting the second cave, we hiked back to the Ashram, having made a loop from the Ashram, to the cafe, to the temple, to the caves, and back to the Ashram.
We then went back to the hotel and met Mom, who was starving and therefore inclined to be grumpy. She had come down off the mountain and visited an Internet cafe only to discover at the end of a 1/2 hour that she had no money. Not only could she not pay for her time on the computer, she could not buy lunch! So when Dad and I got back, we trouped of to a restaurant. Mom had lunch while dad and I split a pancake. I also ordered a milkshake, which I was very excited about, but it was really just chocolate milk.
After lunch #2, mom and I went to a salon and had scalp massages. It was wonderful: just what we needed after a long day. It was also nice because now I don't have to wash my hair in that disgusting bathroom. While we were waiting for the hair oil to do its job and strengthen our hair, or something like that, I had henna drawn on my hand in a beautiful pattern.
Overall, it has been a spectacular day. My faith in India has been restored. I think I was just really tired yesterday. I can't decide what the best part was: being smacked by an elephant, meeting new people, the playful banter Dad and I kept up for a good few hours, or the relaxing massage. Speaking of playful banter, Dad has decided to die the tips of his hair silver and gold. I am very happy about this, but I think he was joking.
After we moved,we all decided what to do because no one, not even Mom, had formulated solid plans for the day. Patrick went to the Internet cafe to work, Mom hiked up to the caves Ramana Maharshi lived in, Dad went to the P.O. to figure out how to ship a beautiful we bought, and I did laundry in a bucket. By the time I'd finished my laundry and hung it on the clothesline, Dad was back, but Mom and Patrick Weren't. We decided to go to lunch, even though it was a bit early. We went to Manna cafe, but I was a bit disappointed because they were still serving breakfast and I was craving lasagna. Maybe we'll go back for dinner.Not a fantastic day so far, you may think. It gets better.
Dad pointed out as we were leaving the cafe that he had yet to ride in an auto-rickshaw. So we decided on the temple as our location, hailed ourselves a rickshaw, bargained for a bit, and took off. I've noticed that things can take longer in India, especially when bargaining is involved, because sometimes the best tactic is to simply walk away and find another driver who oversaw your previous encounter and knows you mean business. The Arunachaleswar Temple is spectacular. It is all carved out of white marble and is not painted; I like the comparative simplicity. Of course, it was still intricately carved, but this time, the statures were close enough to the ground to be truly appreciated. Right after we had walked in, I heard a distinctive noise. I turned to Dad and said "Is that an elephant?!" We started running because we saw other people running and didn't want to miss the show. We did not; there was a huge male elephant who was giving Darshan, blessings. Luckily, I had a few coins, so I took one out and put it into the elephants trunk. After receiving the coin, the temple elephant smacks you on the head. I had expected something somewhat more gentle than the clout I received, but it was still and e\incredible experience to be blessed by an elephant. I offered Dad a coin as well, but he declined, saying he was scared of elephants. Rightfully so! After that relatively light tap on my head, I truly realize how big and powerful elephants really are.
We walked around the temple for a bit, gave some rice cakes to the poor, and left to climb the mountain to the caves. I hoped to meet up with Mom, but knew it was unlikely because she'd been gone so long already. On the way to the caves, we were surrounded by schoolchildren (it was a holiday today - for what, I do not know.) and I had both my pens and one pencil, voluntarily, taken from me. They were very excited about their pens. One little girl, 10 years old, followed us for a ways before turning back. She was quite sweet.
We got to the lower cave without much difficulty. It was very noisy inside. At first I thought there was water rushing by, unseen behind the wall separating us from the rest of the cave. Then I realized it was actually somebody's stomach gurgling! A little while after we left, we talked to a young Australian man. He said he'd been in Tiruvannamalai for about a month and that every time this man was there, he actually made his stomach gurgle. Rather selfish I think! "I don't know what kind of yoga he thinks he's doing", said the Australian, "but after a while he falls asleep and then he snores and it echoes around the cave." After the Aussie took off, we met a few of the young Sadus I'd met on the mountaintop yesterday. They were coming down for supplies. They offered me some chai, but I declined. After visiting the second cave, we hiked back to the Ashram, having made a loop from the Ashram, to the cafe, to the temple, to the caves, and back to the Ashram.
We then went back to the hotel and met Mom, who was starving and therefore inclined to be grumpy. She had come down off the mountain and visited an Internet cafe only to discover at the end of a 1/2 hour that she had no money. Not only could she not pay for her time on the computer, she could not buy lunch! So when Dad and I got back, we trouped of to a restaurant. Mom had lunch while dad and I split a pancake. I also ordered a milkshake, which I was very excited about, but it was really just chocolate milk.
After lunch #2, mom and I went to a salon and had scalp massages. It was wonderful: just what we needed after a long day. It was also nice because now I don't have to wash my hair in that disgusting bathroom. While we were waiting for the hair oil to do its job and strengthen our hair, or something like that, I had henna drawn on my hand in a beautiful pattern.
Overall, it has been a spectacular day. My faith in India has been restored. I think I was just really tired yesterday. I can't decide what the best part was: being smacked by an elephant, meeting new people, the playful banter Dad and I kept up for a good few hours, or the relaxing massage. Speaking of playful banter, Dad has decided to die the tips of his hair silver and gold. I am very happy about this, but I think he was joking.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Hiking up Mt. Arunachala
Mom and I hiked part of the way up Mt. Arunachala two days ago, barefoot! It was rather exhilarating at first, as new experiences tend to be. In fact the way up was quite delightful because I love the feel of sand squishing between my toes and the way my foot can curl around a rock and grip it. The thorns I stepped on were less pleasant. The way back down, however, was not so pleasurable. The sun had risen in the sky, eliminating shade and heating the rocks to burning point. Mom and I were sometimes forced to hurry from shady spot to shady spot: no easy feat while barefoot on a rocky mountain trail, even a well-trodden trail. We found a little creek which I bathed my feet in, but this was definitely a mixed blessing. There had been no such creek on the way up, which meant we had made a wrong turn somewhere and had to backtrack. By the time we reached the Ashram, I was limping, because I had somehow managed to stick more thorns in my left foot than my right, and parched from lack of water. Despite this, however, I decided that the hike was, overall, a success. The view was lovely. We got high enough that we could hear only the loudest of the car horns, and the air was filled with that heady perfume of flowers attributed to India.
Yesterday, the family hiked up to the cave in which Sri Ramana Maharshi lived for twenty years. The one I went into was filled witha beautiful, peaceful presance. Unfortunately, I could not hike any further because my feet still hurt from the day before even though I wore shoes on that hike, because I was having asthma, and because I had not eaten breakfast. So I planned on hiking all the way to the top the next day, which I did.
Today, we hiked all the way up to the top of Mt. Arunachala. It was quite a scramble. “We” includes Mom, Patrick, me, this Indian boy who we met the other day who wanted to hike to the top, and a woman named Layla. Layla, it turns out, is an old acquaintance. She is a friend of a friend and had dinner at our house 10 years ago! It is a smaller world than I previously thought. The hike was lovely. It was quite foggy for almost the entire time, which I liked. It blocked the city from our view and isolated us. There were also fewer hikers. The downside was that the rocks were very slippery in some places, but we managed. After about an 1 ½ hours (I think) we made it to the top. It was wonderful! There were three or four Sadus at the top. Sadus are men who live in religious poverty, depend on charity, and devote their lives to the god Shiva. They gave us chai and led us around the top of the mountain. I was grateful for this because the top was smeared all over with ghee (clarified butter) as an offering and was very slippery. There was always a helpful hand if I started losing my balance, which was regularly. I don’t know how they did it, but they were completely stable; I saw one running to chase some monkeys away from their rice. Dad said he saw one leaping from rock to rock, running headlong down the mountain, by way of descent. I would have fallen down after five seconds, but I suppose that if you live on a mountain for ten years, climbing up and down every few days for supplies, you get used to it.
Yesterday, the family hiked up to the cave in which Sri Ramana Maharshi lived for twenty years. The one I went into was filled witha beautiful, peaceful presance. Unfortunately, I could not hike any further because my feet still hurt from the day before even though I wore shoes on that hike, because I was having asthma, and because I had not eaten breakfast. So I planned on hiking all the way to the top the next day, which I did.
Today, we hiked all the way up to the top of Mt. Arunachala. It was quite a scramble. “We” includes Mom, Patrick, me, this Indian boy who we met the other day who wanted to hike to the top, and a woman named Layla. Layla, it turns out, is an old acquaintance. She is a friend of a friend and had dinner at our house 10 years ago! It is a smaller world than I previously thought. The hike was lovely. It was quite foggy for almost the entire time, which I liked. It blocked the city from our view and isolated us. There were also fewer hikers. The downside was that the rocks were very slippery in some places, but we managed. After about an 1 ½ hours (I think) we made it to the top. It was wonderful! There were three or four Sadus at the top. Sadus are men who live in religious poverty, depend on charity, and devote their lives to the god Shiva. They gave us chai and led us around the top of the mountain. I was grateful for this because the top was smeared all over with ghee (clarified butter) as an offering and was very slippery. There was always a helpful hand if I started losing my balance, which was regularly. I don’t know how they did it, but they were completely stable; I saw one running to chase some monkeys away from their rice. Dad said he saw one leaping from rock to rock, running headlong down the mountain, by way of descent. I would have fallen down after five seconds, but I suppose that if you live on a mountain for ten years, climbing up and down every few days for supplies, you get used to it.
A new city
We took a taxi from Mamallapuram to Thiruvanamali. We were told that our taxi driver had been a tiger in his previous life. He was very nice – he even let Patrick drive his taxi for a while – but I think there was something tiger-ish about him, especially when he smiled. Patrick said that driving was fun, despite the lack of power steering, but that he would not want to drive in the city. The rooms we have at the Ramanashram (the Ashram of Sri Ramana Maharshi) are clean and quite spacy, but they cannot be called comfortable. I think I have slept more comfortably in a tree and on a rock than I do in this bed. The mattress is so hard! And I would give quite a lot at the moment for a towel and a drain in the bathroom. I thought bathing in a bucket was difficult before, but in this room I had to actually stand in the bucket and be careful not to splash or drip on the floor!
The Ramanashram, the Ashram of Sri Ramana Maharshi, is very peaceful. Everyone here looks as though they have a story, even the westerners. Especially the westerners, I suppose, because they must have come farther. Everyone prays a lot and are respectful, and most walk in a dignified fashion, which is a nice change from Mamallapuram. I did like Mamallapuram, but the people here seem more concerned with the right things, such as trying to discover who they really are, for example, rather than trying to find cool hippy clothes. Maybe that is rather harsh stereotyping, but it is an honest expression of what I perceive.
The Ramanashram, the Ashram of Sri Ramana Maharshi, is very peaceful. Everyone here looks as though they have a story, even the westerners. Especially the westerners, I suppose, because they must have come farther. Everyone prays a lot and are respectful, and most walk in a dignified fashion, which is a nice change from Mamallapuram. I did like Mamallapuram, but the people here seem more concerned with the right things, such as trying to discover who they really are, for example, rather than trying to find cool hippy clothes. Maybe that is rather harsh stereotyping, but it is an honest expression of what I perceive.
Arjuna's Penance
Sorry, I got behind in my posting. This happened a while ago, but here it is.
When we were in Mamallapuram, I decided to go exploring on Arjuna's Penance. I was on Arjuna’s Penance, happily exploring, I accidentily tripped on the low hem of my sari. And all the pleats instantly fell out. Fortunately I caught them and hurridly stuffed them back into the waistband before glancing around to see if anyone had noticed my moment of clumsiness. A couple some distance from me were laughing, but I do not know if at me or at some personal joke. Ah well. I hunted around for a secluded spot n which to fix my sari properly, because the result of my hurried stuffing was a distinctly poofy sari. After I found one and fixed the sari to my satisfaction, I continued on my way. Apparently I had done a good job fixing my sari because a girl about my age introduced herself and complimented me on it. This was a huge relief. You would think I had learned my lesson, but no. Once off the hill, I noticed that part of my sari was trailing after me. I must have stepped on it again. I was in a much more crowded are at this point, so I quickly sat down on a step, both to hide my faulty clothing and to think what to do next. A kind tour-guide had already noticed me, however, and pointed out where the bathrooms were. I thanked him and was gathering my courage to cross the lawn full of people with my clothes trailing after me when a woman walked up and offered her assistance. She led me into a temple where we hid in a corner behind a pillar. I was safe on three sides. She expertly retied my sari without exposing an inch of skin that wouldn’t otherwise be exposed. I was very grateful, but the experience has put me off saris for a while.
When we were in Mamallapuram, I decided to go exploring on Arjuna's Penance. I was on Arjuna’s Penance, happily exploring, I accidentily tripped on the low hem of my sari. And all the pleats instantly fell out. Fortunately I caught them and hurridly stuffed them back into the waistband before glancing around to see if anyone had noticed my moment of clumsiness. A couple some distance from me were laughing, but I do not know if at me or at some personal joke. Ah well. I hunted around for a secluded spot n which to fix my sari properly, because the result of my hurried stuffing was a distinctly poofy sari. After I found one and fixed the sari to my satisfaction, I continued on my way. Apparently I had done a good job fixing my sari because a girl about my age introduced herself and complimented me on it. This was a huge relief. You would think I had learned my lesson, but no. Once off the hill, I noticed that part of my sari was trailing after me. I must have stepped on it again. I was in a much more crowded are at this point, so I quickly sat down on a step, both to hide my faulty clothing and to think what to do next. A kind tour-guide had already noticed me, however, and pointed out where the bathrooms were. I thanked him and was gathering my courage to cross the lawn full of people with my clothes trailing after me when a woman walked up and offered her assistance. She led me into a temple where we hid in a corner behind a pillar. I was safe on three sides. She expertly retied my sari without exposing an inch of skin that wouldn’t otherwise be exposed. I was very grateful, but the experience has put me off saris for a while.
Linda: Shri Ramana Ashram – Day 2 Jan 7
Shri Ramana Ashram – Day 2
Today was a day spent entirely in the ashram, for most of us. Patrick worked in the morning, but spent the afternoon climbing
Breakfast was a wonderful meal and experience. Anyone who wants to eat washes their hands, comes in, and sits, one next to each other, behind a “plate” made from leaves. At breakfast, our plate or eating mat was several leaves sewn together by some kind person. One washes the leaves with water and then several priests and helpers come by, doling various foods onto the leaf plate. This morning, we had 3 idly (rice cakes), some vegetable curry, and delicious hot coffee (in a cup). Second servings are offered, and when one is finished, one merely folds your plate in half so the helpers can clean up. Oh – no utensils. You eat everything with your right hand (never the left), scooping everything together and somehow managing to get it to your mouth without spilling it onto your clothes. It actually works quite well – and NO DISHES!! I could definitely get use to this. It was so simple, so quiet, so dignified. There was no real conversation, one just ate and left and went on with whatever the day was to bring.
Afterwards, we thought there was to be more chanting and prayers, but either there wasn’t or we were not in the right place. We wandered out of the back of the compound, and started up the mountain, intending to go just a little way. We were barefooted, as one leaves one’s shoes at the gates of the ashram. Up the path is the place where Shri Ramana had lived in a cave for 20 years in silence, before a place further down the mountain was built for him (actually built more for the pilgrims who wished to see him). Instead of going right, Eleanor chose left, where there was a small shelter residence of a sadhu with a lovely shrine – a perfect little home (something my wilderness survival spirit was particularly drawn to). It had a leaf roof with low sides and flat boulders making two low walls/beds/backrests. The roof did not quite meet the top of the boulders, and one could sit in the shade and shelter, looking over the valley and breathing the scent of aromatic flowers. One corner was a fire pit and there was a little shrine to Shiva at the back of the hut. That was all – and it was everything. Just up the path was a little pool to go to bathe every day (the streets here may be dirty, but the people are usually clean), something required in the religion. So, shelter, water, fire, food at the ashram, a hospitable environment, and a simple cloth for clothing. No need. No want. Perfect contentment.
As with most mountain paths, when it comes to Eleanor and me, going up a little way always means going a little way more. We ended up walking almost all the way up the mountain in our bare feet. I love the mountains so much. Up high with the sky and the wind. Unfortunately, one never got away from the tooting of the horns below, and I was vastly wishing for the quiet of the west. That is something
We may hike around the bottom of Arunachula tomorrow. Going around the bottom is something people from all over
Linda: Shri Ramana Maharshi Ashram Jan 6
Shri Ramana Maharshi Ashram
Arunachula
We arrived at about
When we arrived, we were escorted to the guesthouse here, a place where people interested in Shri Ramana can stay for 3 days. There are no fees, but one can (and we will) leave a donation afterwards. The guesthouse is simple and clean, located about 5 minutes from the ashram down a small road. The way is lined with orange clad Sadhus with the three lines of Shiva marking their foreheads. At night, one will see them sleeping along the street or on a rock, leading a simple, ascetic life, much like Ramana had. These men are not devotees of Shri Ramana – Arunachula attracts many spiritual seekers. Alongside the Sadhus are people of many nationalities, often clad in long skirts or tunic/pants with scarves for the women and long shirts/pants for the men. People walk slowly – there is no where to go, one is here and one is now and that is all that matters. No thinking about the past or the future or what one should be doing. It is a wonderful thing, to just be and not to always be doing something.
After settling our bags and eating a meal, Matthew and I went to the ashram to listen to the evening prayers. The ashram here is well endowed. The main hall is in front of the burial place of Shri Ramana Maharshi (located behind a Shiva statue) and is next to the burial place of his mother, who was also a follower of his and a saint in her own right. Because the ashram is well endowed, there is no question of money, donation, tithing, etc., which is something of a relief. All is really simple. One comes and one participates as much or as little as one wants. To simply be there is enough. When one enters the hall, the women sit to the right, the men to the left. This is something I also like, because it gives everyone a sense of autonomy. One comes on one’s own. Both wife and husband are freed of their duty to one another and can simply be present. Many, many religions practice this in various modalities. If I remember correctly, early Christianity did as well. It is easy to understand why. The ceremony is a simple puja lasting about 15 minutes. Priests chant prayers while one priest prays, giving offerings of fire and of the people and asking that their petitions be answered. After the puja, pilgrims can come up to the front and receive a tikka, or little dot of coloring to put on their foreheads as a special blessing. Sometimes they can receive part of the offering that had been made as well: sugar, butter, flowers.
Then, carpets are lain in the front of the hall with the men facing in toward the center, as do the women, so the men and women are facing each other. 45 minutes of chanting follow, where the men and women chant verses back and forth. In Hinduism, it is very important to be married. For a man to fulfill his spiritual obligation, he needs a wife to say the prayers with. Thus, the wife and husband are both sacred in one another’s eyes. Thus, in the spirit, both the husband and the wife are superior to the other. Women are treated with great respect here – if a person is following the precepts of their religion. So, here we sat, listening to the calling, back and forth, of sacred song passed between the men and women. When a chant was concluding, the two parts would come together in unison, which was powerful and beautiful.
At the conclusion, all left the hall for a simple meal provided by the ashram. Matthew and I did not eat at this time, but did eat in the ashram the next day. Instead, we went back to the guesthouse … to sleep.
Linda: Tirukalikundrum – The Eagle Temple Jan 5
Tirukalikundrum – The
The Road to Arunachula: Shiva’s
Lila – God’s play. All seemed to be arranged to leave Mamallapuram –
Tirukalikundrum is a Pallava temple, similar in age to the ones we had just visited. It is perched high on a large hill/mountain and it is said that eagles had once flown there daily f;rom the
Things are so very old here. Even the mountains are old. As we continued to Tiruvanamalai, we passed some old, old mountains. One compares the
It was at this point that our driver made Patrick’s day and allowed him to drive the taxi. I decided to not look, and he did very well, tooting the horn and going around pedestrians, bullocks, autorickshaws, bicycles, and avoiding larger taxis and busses. He certainly understood where he was on the transportation pecking order. At one point, we passed a highway patrol man. Our taxi driver did a swift intake of breath, hoping we would not get pulled over (driving without a license), though he assured us that a 250Rs fee would take care of any inconvenience. Fortunately, the policeman did not notice the driver, and, several minutes later, Patrick returned the wheel back to the taxi driver. We were all a bit relieved, but it was kind of him to appeal to Patrick’s youthful adventure – a kindred spirit.
We approached
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Arjuna's Penance
Srorry I got behind in my posting! This happened a few days ago.
I went exploring the other day a place called Arjuna's Penance. It is where Arjuna prayed to get divine help. It was a bit strange to be in what I think of as a place of mythology. Intellectually, I suppose, I knew that the Mahabharata really was supposed to have happened, but it was so far removed from me, and from my culture, that it seemed like just a really good story. Anyway, Arjuna's Penance is really nice. You can get away from the city (the bane of my existence is the inescapable noise) and just walk around in nature. There are lots of goats, and I saw 18 monkeys!
When I was on Arjuna’s Penance, happily exploring, I accidentally tripped on the low hem of my sari. And all the pleats instantly fell out. Fortunately I caught them and hurriedly stuffed them back into the waistband before glancing around to see if anyone had noticed my moment of clumsiness. A couple some distance from me were laughing, but I do not know if at me or at some personal joke. Ah well. I hunted around for a secluded spot n which to fix my sari properly, because the result of my hurried stuffing was a distinctly poofy sari. After I found one and fixed the sari to my satisfaction, I continued on my way. Apparently I had done a good job fixing my sari because a girl about my age introduced herself and complimented me on it. This was a huge relief. You would think I had learned my lesson, but no. Once off the hill, I noticed that part of my sari was trailing after me. I must have stepped on it again. I was in a much more crowded are at this point, so I quickly sat down on a step, both to hide my faulty clothing and to think what to do next. A kind tour-guide had already noticed me, however, and pointed out where the bathrooms were. I thanked him and was gathering my courage to cross the lawn full of people with my clothes trailing after me when a woman walked up and offered her assistance. She led me into a temple where we hid in a corner behind a pillar. I was safe on three sides. She expertly retied my sari without exposing an inch of skin that wouldn’t otherwise be exposed. I was very grateful, but the experience has put me off saris for a while.
I went exploring the other day a place called Arjuna's Penance. It is where Arjuna prayed to get divine help. It was a bit strange to be in what I think of as a place of mythology. Intellectually, I suppose, I knew that the Mahabharata really was supposed to have happened, but it was so far removed from me, and from my culture, that it seemed like just a really good story. Anyway, Arjuna's Penance is really nice. You can get away from the city (the bane of my existence is the inescapable noise) and just walk around in nature. There are lots of goats, and I saw 18 monkeys!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Linda: Mamallapuram: Final Moments
Mamallapuram: Final Moments
Our sojourn here is near its end. The town is small enough, that as we walk the few city blocks from one place to another, shopkeepers and beggars become familiar, street hawkers are less likely to call (having shown no interest in buying), and we are becoming known amongst the local population. Calls of “very nice sari, very nice” abound, partly as a ploy to gain attention and possibly enter a shop, but also quite genuinely and spontaneously. Yesterday, Eleanor was having significant sari troubles that resulted in our maid, with smiles and much good will, giving us a sari lesson. I’ve a few new tricks … but still not the art of it. At least my sari has stayed on. Several times, people ask about our wearing the sari. “Do you wear the sari in America?” “Do many people wear saris in America?” “Are you Christian?” “Are most Americans Christian?” “Do Indian women wear saris in America?” “Where did you buy your sari?” etc. And, despite wearing my hair in a braid and having on a sari, it is quite clear that I am a foreigner. I think it’s the way I walk.
Today, I was sitting on the side of the street, watching the rich parade of life going on all around. There are a few beggars, mostly rather quiet, but each with their own way. One man wandered the streets, a can in one hand and sometimes a little monkey on a lead in the other. He was old, with a white doti and a kind of head scarf. He had a radiant smile and wonderful presence. I hope to see him on the last day, as I would like to give him a little bit before we leave. Others also are near, sometimes asking for help, sometimes content to smile, sometimes being a little bit pushy and insistent, but not too much. It can be hard to walk by, especially mothers with young children, but in this town at least, being on the touristy side, I think that most of them at least have food to eat. In Chennai, it was different. Urban poverty is so much more devastating than rural poverty. There is no beauty in the surroundings from which one can take consolation. There is no hope of a little plot of land to gather or grow food. In Chennai, there was some begging, but there were also people lying on the streets - no smiles, no lightness, no movement. From all accounts, southern India is much easier than the north with regard to begging and destitution, so this is a theme to which I may return.
Today we bought a beautiful marble statue, carved locally, of Krishna and Radha. Krishna is a much beloved god, whose endearing childhood and young manhood have inspired much in the world of dance, poetry, and artistry. Radha is Krishna’s first love, and this particular statue shows Krishna playing his flute for his beloved. Krishna is also the speaker in the Bhagavad Gita. It took us three days to buy this statue – in fact, we had intended to buy another. We’d chosen a modest sized statue of Lakshmi, but my husband was standing in front of this larger statue and decided to purchase it, though it was rather expensive. I think the shopkeeper was as surprised as I was, and had come down $50 in the price. The shopkeeper was a young man, closely associated with one of the stone carving enclaves in town. Of all the shops I’d seen (dozens), his had the most beautiful statues and the best prices. At any rate, the experience of buying here is setting the stage for future endeavors. We’ve made a few decisions. First, we will try to buy whatever is local. Mamallapuram = stone. Kanchipuram = silk. Dharamsala = pakshima wool (exquisite). Rajasthan = textiles. Second, I’ve learned to spend days scouring around, looking at prices, getting a feel for the quality, and finding a shopkeeper that is engaging and kind (that part is easy). Finally, I’m trying not to feel guilty about not buying something in a shop in which I spent a lot of time. This part is not so easy. AND, we still have to carry it, or deal with postage.
Today is Sunday and the town is teeming with Indians coming to the beach for the day. There is a festive climate, many many types of people, and flashing smiles. I’ve seen several Muslim women today in full black dress, head to toe, with a bit of black gauze over the eyes so the women can see. And yet, what a glimpse. Beautiful eyes, painted with kohl, observant, quiet, intense. Despite being completely covered, these women walked with immense personality. Some were lithe and graceful; others forceful; others playful. In a strange sort of way, taking away the details of the person’s body almost enhanced the more subtle qualities of personality and style. I would love to be able to speak with some of these women – perhaps later. I’ll try to sneak a photograph. And their shopping was every bit as animated as mine! Some things are the same everywhere.
As we were wandering around some of the sites, a bus load of school children came up the path. We’d seen them earlier on their bus, hands out the window waving to everyone who would wave back with cries of delight when someone responded. Again, some things are the same everywhere. There they trooped, all in orange uniforms and followed by dutiful parents in colorful garments acting as chaperones. Needless to say, I was right at home and enjoyed waving, smiling, and taking photographs. They clambered over rocks, stood for photographs with tourists, and were lovely in their animated joy. The parents looked a bit tired and the teacher a bit worried (perhaps I was relating to this scene too much), and the whole of the scene was quite lovely. I love seeing what is the same in all that is seemingly different.
Tomorrow, the Eagle Temple, perched high on a hill outside the town, and then Tiruvanamalai and a 3 night stay at the Ramana Maharshi ashram.
Our sojourn here is near its end. The town is small enough, that as we walk the few city blocks from one place to another, shopkeepers and beggars become familiar, street hawkers are less likely to call (having shown no interest in buying), and we are becoming known amongst the local population. Calls of “very nice sari, very nice” abound, partly as a ploy to gain attention and possibly enter a shop, but also quite genuinely and spontaneously. Yesterday, Eleanor was having significant sari troubles that resulted in our maid, with smiles and much good will, giving us a sari lesson. I’ve a few new tricks … but still not the art of it. At least my sari has stayed on. Several times, people ask about our wearing the sari. “Do you wear the sari in America?” “Do many people wear saris in America?” “Are you Christian?” “Are most Americans Christian?” “Do Indian women wear saris in America?” “Where did you buy your sari?” etc. And, despite wearing my hair in a braid and having on a sari, it is quite clear that I am a foreigner. I think it’s the way I walk.
Today, I was sitting on the side of the street, watching the rich parade of life going on all around. There are a few beggars, mostly rather quiet, but each with their own way. One man wandered the streets, a can in one hand and sometimes a little monkey on a lead in the other. He was old, with a white doti and a kind of head scarf. He had a radiant smile and wonderful presence. I hope to see him on the last day, as I would like to give him a little bit before we leave. Others also are near, sometimes asking for help, sometimes content to smile, sometimes being a little bit pushy and insistent, but not too much. It can be hard to walk by, especially mothers with young children, but in this town at least, being on the touristy side, I think that most of them at least have food to eat. In Chennai, it was different. Urban poverty is so much more devastating than rural poverty. There is no beauty in the surroundings from which one can take consolation. There is no hope of a little plot of land to gather or grow food. In Chennai, there was some begging, but there were also people lying on the streets - no smiles, no lightness, no movement. From all accounts, southern India is much easier than the north with regard to begging and destitution, so this is a theme to which I may return.
Today we bought a beautiful marble statue, carved locally, of Krishna and Radha. Krishna is a much beloved god, whose endearing childhood and young manhood have inspired much in the world of dance, poetry, and artistry. Radha is Krishna’s first love, and this particular statue shows Krishna playing his flute for his beloved. Krishna is also the speaker in the Bhagavad Gita. It took us three days to buy this statue – in fact, we had intended to buy another. We’d chosen a modest sized statue of Lakshmi, but my husband was standing in front of this larger statue and decided to purchase it, though it was rather expensive. I think the shopkeeper was as surprised as I was, and had come down $50 in the price. The shopkeeper was a young man, closely associated with one of the stone carving enclaves in town. Of all the shops I’d seen (dozens), his had the most beautiful statues and the best prices. At any rate, the experience of buying here is setting the stage for future endeavors. We’ve made a few decisions. First, we will try to buy whatever is local. Mamallapuram = stone. Kanchipuram = silk. Dharamsala = pakshima wool (exquisite). Rajasthan = textiles. Second, I’ve learned to spend days scouring around, looking at prices, getting a feel for the quality, and finding a shopkeeper that is engaging and kind (that part is easy). Finally, I’m trying not to feel guilty about not buying something in a shop in which I spent a lot of time. This part is not so easy. AND, we still have to carry it, or deal with postage.
Today is Sunday and the town is teeming with Indians coming to the beach for the day. There is a festive climate, many many types of people, and flashing smiles. I’ve seen several Muslim women today in full black dress, head to toe, with a bit of black gauze over the eyes so the women can see. And yet, what a glimpse. Beautiful eyes, painted with kohl, observant, quiet, intense. Despite being completely covered, these women walked with immense personality. Some were lithe and graceful; others forceful; others playful. In a strange sort of way, taking away the details of the person’s body almost enhanced the more subtle qualities of personality and style. I would love to be able to speak with some of these women – perhaps later. I’ll try to sneak a photograph. And their shopping was every bit as animated as mine! Some things are the same everywhere.
As we were wandering around some of the sites, a bus load of school children came up the path. We’d seen them earlier on their bus, hands out the window waving to everyone who would wave back with cries of delight when someone responded. Again, some things are the same everywhere. There they trooped, all in orange uniforms and followed by dutiful parents in colorful garments acting as chaperones. Needless to say, I was right at home and enjoyed waving, smiling, and taking photographs. They clambered over rocks, stood for photographs with tourists, and were lovely in their animated joy. The parents looked a bit tired and the teacher a bit worried (perhaps I was relating to this scene too much), and the whole of the scene was quite lovely. I love seeing what is the same in all that is seemingly different.
Tomorrow, the Eagle Temple, perched high on a hill outside the town, and then Tiruvanamalai and a 3 night stay at the Ramana Maharshi ashram.
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